


Smoke Rings and Broken Mirrors

by Talli3



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Noir, Canon Related, Comfort/Angst, Detective Noir, F/F, Friendship/Love, Gen, Mystery, Romance, Slow Burn, prewar
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-24
Updated: 2020-06-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 16:54:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 34,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24360145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Talli3/pseuds/Talli3
Summary: Alternate Universe set Prewar, canon respectful if not really compliant. I'm moderating comments on this fic so new readers can avoid spoilers later on down the road.Nora Adams runs a small but succesful legal practice. The day after her triumphant win over the State in 'Massachusetts vs Silva' she gets a phone call from the DA's office, and events are set in motion that will turn her life upside down.Autumn is drawing over the city of Boston. The weather's getting colder, the cities hunkering down for the winter.It's been three years since the murders, and everyone has tried to move on.But, nothing stays buried forever.
Relationships: Female Sole Survivor/Piper Wright
Comments: 19
Kudos: 19





	1. Vanishing Files

“Darling, you’re the talk of the office! They’ll be gushing about this case for months!”

A breathy little huff of laughter broke free from Nora, as a tight smirk tugged at her cleanly painted lips.

“Months? My, what an honour, I’ll have to note it down in my diary.”

Cassy’s tsk-ed her down the crackling line. “That’s longer than most interns last, you know.” The dry rustling of scattered papers, and the annoyance of a woman alluded followed. “Can I take it on trust that you’ve sent me all the right papers? Please, say I can.”

The clear note of pleading made Nora look around at her cosy little office, with more than a dash of pride. Apart from the odd personal knick-knack and the recently discarded teddy bear sitting beside the open door, her office was the picture of organised efficiency.

“Nora.” Came Cassy’s unamused warning, laced with threat only a secretary, at not only the end of her wits but her coffee, could properly wield. “Don’t make me beg.”

Nora laughed quietly. “Blue tape, top left corner. Should be near the top since Gina ran it over this morning.”

A cry of triumph forced Nora to hold the phone away from her ear for a moment, returning it only when she caught Cassy’s expulsion of exuberant gratitude.

“Have I ever told you you’re the nicest, smartest, most brilliant lawyer in the district, not to mention the sight of you in black heels and that cocktail dress last autumn is enough to make a girl…”

“What on earth has been happening over there?” Nora chuckled, halting Cassy before she embarrassed them both. “Has it really been that bad?”

“Worse.”

A squeal of delight rippled through the open door, followed by a half serious hush.

Cassy either hadn’t heard or was desperate enough to vent that she ignored it. “I swear darling, every time I turn my head a half dozen files seem to just vanish.”

“Vanish?” Nora queried, the glow of her victory dimmed by a slight creasing frown.

“Well, not permanently, they do always turn up. Its more that they’re…” The furious rustling of an even greater stack of files punctuated Cassy’s sigh. “…being ‘tidied’. Except nobody hired a maid or brought a Mister Handy, and I can’t find a damn thing.”

She tried to make the question casual. She picked up her fountain pen and twirled it absently round her fingers. “Any particular files?”

A bitter chuckle replied at once. “Darling, you may be an avenging saint in the courtroom, and an absolute vision in a dress, but there’s not a chance I’m risking the DA finding out I set him up for accusations of records mismanagement. I like my paycheck too much.”

“Public records?”

Whatever Cassy’s reply was became lost as another squeal of joy drowned her out.

“Well hey there kid! You keeping the ladies here on their toes?”

“Sorry Cassy, old client’s just dropped in, I better go.” Nora turned away from the door, just as an all too familiar fedora peaked round the doorway. “You have everything you need? Either me or Gina can drop anything missing round this evening, if you need…”

“Darling.”

Nora smiled fondly.

“Yes Cass?”

“Paperwork be damned. Go and celebrate your victory. Just make sure you raise a glass for me, alright?”

“Yes Cass.”

She set the handset down, catching the beginning of a muttered curse against all forms of filing, then stood and walked out into Gina’s office.

Three dedicated defenders of civic justice, all people Nora would trust to the ends of the earth and back, principled, wickedly clever, and moral beyond fault, were all completely and utterly wrapped around the tiny fingers of one giggling little boy.

She leant against the door frame, happy to observe, as Shaun reached up and tugged on the fabled Fedora, looking upon it with wide eyed wonder when it tumbled into his lap.

“You’ll never get that back, you know.” Gina warned, smirking when Shaun turned to show her his prize, waving the poor hat around by its already battered rim.

“He’s got a whole trunk of spares.”

Ellie shrugged when her boss shot her a mock frown. “Come on Nick, you really think anyone would believe you if you denied it.”

“I knew it.” Nora stage whispered, stepping out to them when Nick Valentine and Ellie Perkins each demanded their customary hug of greeting.

“There she is! The woman of the hour.” The private detective beamed, holding her at arms-length, his eyes practically glowing with pride. “Finest bit of courtroom drama I’ve seen in years, you did good kid.”

“Thanks Nick. You came to the court?”

Ellie scoffed as she wrapped Nora in a warm embrace. “Are you kidding? He closed down the office for three whole days so we could come watch you. You were amazing Nora, truely.”

Nora smirked over the young woman’s shoulder. “Three whole days? Nick, I never knew you cared.”

The grizzled detective adjusted his dark tie, a dusty blush rising past his neatly shaven chin. “Honestly Ellie, you’re gonna really ruin my hardnosed reputation, you keep spilling stuff like that.”

Ellie rolled her eyes, squeezed Nora one more time for good measure, then turned the entirety of her attention back to the toddler sat in the centre of the nearby desk. Shaun was examining the inside of Nick’s hat with an intensity that was utterly adorable, his delicate little nose creased up in complete concentration.

“You really won’t get that back now you know.” Nora murmured as they waited for the moment Shaun might attempt to put the hat on.

Nick grinned, nodding towards her office, following her through, and closing the door behind them. “Oh I don’t know, bribery can get you nearly anything these days.”

They laughed like the old friends they’d remain until the end of their days, and took their customary positions around the cosy office. Nora with her hip leant against her desk, Nick with his elbow propped upon the Victorian fireplace that squeezed itself into the corner, a leftover from days long since passed.

“So, besides bribery, to what do I owe the pleasure, Mr Valentine?” Nora crossed her arms, canting her head just so, knowing without doubt that congenial congratulations was a bare half the story.

“Why Ms Adams, as if your company wasn’t reason enough!”

A single second of utter silence passed.

“Nick.”

It was the same look she gave the prosecution yesterday, Nick noted, the smirk growing on his face for a moment before the weight of the paper in his pocket tugged him back down to earth. Part of him hated that it had to be today, not twenty four hours since one of his friends finest moments in the court room.

The State vs Silva. The almighty governing body, vs a 23 year old boy with terrible timing, and even worse taste in coffee. And she’d done it. She’d beaten back against a system that wanted an easy answer. The kid walked, and one more grain of rice was added in the fight to balance justice’s scale.

With a silent sigh, that sunk right through to his feet Nick reached into his dusters inside pocket, and drew out the neatly folded paper, handing it across to the woman in front of him, resigned to the fact he was passing her a ghost.

Nora took the paper, unfolded it carefully, and turning to catch the afternoon sunlight that fell hazily through the sash window, started to read.

What started as a bemused and curious smirk, fell away as her blue eyes skimmed over the hand typed words beneath the block printed headline.

Nick waited patiently, fiddling with a loose thread on his cuff to pass the time. She read through it twice. Gaze lingering the second time through, pausing on certain words, skimming over others, the new frown deepening into a sombre sadness that had been absent from her features for almost three years.

Nick knew what that was like. He felt it every time he went to see Jenny, every time he set new flowers by her headstone. Lilies, cream coloured ones. Her favourite.

With the same delicacy she unfolded it, Nora lay the one sided editorial down in the centre of her desk. She got up, walked to the window, and stared out at the Public city library beyond, not seeing a single brick of the building.

“You think it’s the same as Nate?” She asked eventually, crossing her arms tightly over her chest, holding some part of herself in, only the slightest tremble to her fingers.

He passed a weary hand over his slicked back crop of dishwater blonde hair. “I’m not sure.” He admitted, tamping down the stab of regret that tugged at that fact. “Timeline fits. Same circumstances. And if the facts are straight, same response from the force.”

“If?”

He could have placed money on that being her first thought. He could be a wealthy man, if he gambled on the trauma of his friends.

“I know the kid that wrote it.” Nick said. “Smart, reliable, nosy as all hell, but she’s got a horse in this race. No reason for her to draw attention to it, if she hasn’t actually found something.”

Nora didn’t say anything, but Nick could hear her thinking at a rate of knots.

He waited. Then, when he was almost certain she’d already made up her mind, he allowed himself a small knowing grin. “You want to meet her and find out?”

Light cut across Nora’s desk as she turned sharply, catching the words on the paper as her heels clicked along the floorboards, to where her pale coat hung behind the door.

_‘Three Years of Silent Justice’_

The headline read, and just beneath it:

_‘The Unsolved Back Street Murders and the Incompetent Fumbling of a Crooked System’_

Nora shook her dark hair out from the confines of the creamy white collar, turning to Nick with iron in her eyes. Nick wondered if the city was ever going to really be ready for her, then with a single glance back to the paper, at the dark block print at the top:

_‘ **Public Occurances** ’_

He knew that was impossible. Boston could never be ready for Nora.

Hand on the door, looking a million bucks, determination rolling off of her with a vengeance, she said

“You bet I do.”


	2. It was the right thing to do

The Fens were full of ghosts, so Nora avoided the place as much as possible. She’d never brought Shaun back here. If it weren’t for Nick and Ellie, standing either side of her, loyal sentries against all that the city could throw their way, Nora wouldn’t be there.

Ellie wound her arm through her own, giving her a slight nod and a smile when Nora silently thanked her. If she turned her head to the left, just slightly, she might just be able to see it. Fenway Park. They probably weren’t that much more than a street away from the spot.

The thought made her tremble, but she set her jaw as best she could and followed Nick, Ellie a constant presence at her side, as he led them away from the station, up towards the River. It was quiet, there was no game on, and Thursday mid afternoon was clearly a slow day for tourists. They passed only a few people, no one paid them much mind, Nora’s picture had been in the Bugle a few times during the Silva case, but the woman who clung to Ellie’s arm now was a far cry from the ‘avenging angel’ of the courtroom she’d been made out to be.

They turned right down a narrow street, buildings close and tall, enough so that Nora couldn’t see the shadow of the Park. A small part of the tension in her shoulders eased. Nick glanced back occasionally, the concern plain and earnest on his face. With every step Nora could see him questioning himself, wondering whether he should just turn them back now, take Nora home where Gina was happily baby sitting Shaun, Codsworth no doubt hovering nearby with his endless optimism.

She wouldn’t be scared away, not when the ghosts lay a dozen streets away. She’d been blocked off from the district too long. She’d claim it back, street by street if she had to. She wouldn’t let him haunt her here.

Eventually they came to a halt outside a rather rundown shop front, window displays dusty and dark, no hint of what might have once been sold there, red paint that once accented the attractive wooden panelled frontage, chipped and flaking. Nick did not linger, he strode towards a splinter narrow alleyway, which ran between the forgotten shop and its brighter neighbour.

Ellie let her go. The space was too tight to walk side by side, though Nora immediately missed her calming presence. Following Nick, they skirted the tight confines coming to stand at a small door, bearing the same decrepit paint scheme as the frontage. With a sharp tight rap of his knuckles, Nick knocked and waited.

Nora glanced to Ellie.

Ellie shrugged back.

“Maybe they’re both out?” She offered, twisting to look back down the alleyway.

Nick huffed, digging his hands deep into his pockets, craning his neck back to look up at the shuttered windows above.

There was movement inside. Nora caught it, just. The sound of rustling, the softest murmur of a voice, maybe two. She nudged Nick’s side lightly with her elbow, nodding towards the door when he frowned at her. Stooping as low as the tight confines would allow him, Nick pressed an ear to the flaking paint, and listened. A frown deepened across his face, then it lifted into a smirk.

“I’m not saying your password if that’s what you’re waiting for.”

There was a pause.

A long one, in which Nora barely heard a thing.

Then, with as much indignance as the simple gesture would allow, the door was yanked open, and a contrite young woman sporting a red leather trench coat, green woven scarf, and a bitterly disappointed pout, scowled at them.

“Jesus Nick, would it really kill you to say one little…”

Nick silenced her with naught but a single wave of his palm. “Yell at us all you want after you let us in, Piper. We’re packed in like sardines here.”

She leveled further withering scowl at Nick, and glanced breifly at Ellie to acknowledge her presence, then her eyes moved to Nora. She found herself quite suddenly being examined from head to toe and back again, a curious expression settling over the young woman’s features, as she took stock of this stranger on her doorstep.

She stepped aside, and waved them in. Eyes seeming to stick to Nora as she passed her, then closing, and firmly locking the door behind them.

They entered a meagrely appointed kitchen, but did not linger. The young woman, Nick had called her Piper, led them through the cramped room and along a dimly lit corridor, snaking up a creaking staircase, along another corridor, before ending up in what Nora could only describe as the fallout of a paper-based bomb.

There were notes everywhere. Every surface, every wall. Maps with pins, diagrams with photos attached at jaunting angles. A type writer stood in the corner on a desk, seemingly held up by stubbornness alone, surrounded by enough empty Nuka Cola bottles to float both her own office and Nick’s for a month.

Piper stood at its heart, looking right at home in the chaos, if a little bit sheepish. “There’s a couch somewhere under that lot, just move stuff to the floor.”

Ellie set about finding the fabled furniture, while Nick began introductions, placing a comforting hand on Nora’s shoulder.

“Miss Piper Wright, may I introduce Ms Nora Adams.” Pride was not hidden from his voice.

“Nice to meet you.” Nora offered out her hand on reflex, though she hesitated when she saw the spark of recognition in the other woman’s olive-green eyes.

“Oh my god!” Piper looked between Nick and Nora, grin so wide it threatened to burst from her face. “Are you serious? Nicky, you brought the ‘Guardian of the Downtrodden’ here without a scrap of warning?!”

Nick chuckled, while Nora cringed at another of the monikers the recent articles in the Bugle had given her. “The very same.”

Nora shot him a glare.

“You’re victory’s been all folks can talk about, heck the case has been all anyone has been willing to talk about for weeks!” Piper’s enthusiasm was a force to be reckoned with, had Nora been more settled she may have even found it endearing. As it was, with the invisible press of Fenway Park’s long shadow falling across her back, she plastered on her face a polite smile.

“It was the right thing to do.” She said simply.

Piper’s fingers gave a sudden twitch. Slight, small, but unmistakable. “Could I interview you?” She asked, half turning to search out some form of notepad from the storm of papers on what may or may not have been a second desk.

“Piper.” Nick’s tone cut through the air in a single steady draw. “This isn’t a social call, I’m afraid.”

With that, the young woman turned back to them, at once wary, and helplessly intrigued. It was Nora who next spoke, her voice steady, even though her hands were trembling.

“I wanted to ask you about your article. The ‘Backstreet Murders’. My husband was one of the victims.”

A flush of something Nora couldn’t quite define briefly spread across the younger woman’s cheeks. She muttered something, of which the only legible part was “…didn’t know I had readers in the Bay…”

Nora took a small step forward. “Please, Miss Wright. Nick reasoned that you must have found something.” She wasn’t proud of the pleading in her thinned tone, but she wasn’t beyond abandoning some pride, not for the truth. “What did you find?”

Piper looked somewhere between determined, and wanting to bolt down the nearest escape hatch she could reach. But, to her credit she remained still, half covering her face as she ran ink stained fingers through her dark messy hair.

“Nora’s one of the good one’s kid.” Nick said. He had a softness in his voice that Nora had only really heard him use when he tucked Shaun in at night, when he thought no one was watching, and when they’d buried Jenny.

For a moment she knew that Nick had been places with Piper that had scarred them. A deep current of understanding and trust tethered the two together, one forged in the worst of circumstances. She could relate, more than she would ever want to, and she respected that connection.

Piper, she was one of the good one’s too.

“Okay.” Piper let out on a breath. “Okay. But first of all, none of this ‘Miss Wright’ talk. Call me Piper.”

Nora nodded. “Likewise, Piper.”

That brought a smile back to the younger woman’s face. “Good. Second, I’m sorry for your loss.”

It had been three years. She’d heard the sentiment a thousand times. Most of the time from a well-meaning, if wholly reflexive state of sympathy. People said what they thought they should, and when they were scared, they fell back on what they’d heard others say.

_‘He had you and Shaun.’_

_‘He had a good life.’_

_‘At least you were with him. He didn’t die out on the frontlines.’_

_‘I’m sorry for your loss.’_

Some days it didn’t feel like a loss. There was too much pain, too many new ways to feel broken, to have lost something. She’d found grief.

She knew, Nora knew, that those words from Piper, they didn’t come from a place of reflexive sympathy. There was a weight behind those words. She knew, just how much grief made the world so horribly new.

“Thank you.” Nora said quietly.

With Ellie’s excavation of the furniture at a logical point of progress, they settled. Nick and Piper pulling out chairs from some shrouded corner, while Nora and the archaeologist settled on the worn but comfortable coach.

“So,” Piper began, sitting on the edge of her chair, drawing out a well thumbed notepad from the deep inner pocket of her coat. “have any of you heard of either Brian Virgil, or Madison Li?”

Nick frowned a little, but shook his head. “Can’t say the names ring a bell.”

Nora tried to recall anything. A passing comment, a brief mention in an article, even a stray parking ticket or tax avoidance charge. But, like Nick, she’d never heard of them, and gave a slight shake of her head.

“Who are, or were, they?”

Piper gave her a one sided sardonic grin. “Hopefully ‘are’. They’re scientists that went missing. Li was last seen in South Boston May 2073, Virgil, Salem, August same year.”

A cold sweat gathered between Nora’s shoulder blades. She could hear her own heartbeat, fast, too fast. As subtly as she could, she clutched the fabric of the couch as the messy lines of the room around her began to gently sway.

“Where’d you find these folks?” Nick asked, craning his neck to catch a glimpse at Piper’s notepad.

Piper snatched up the loosely bound archive, pressed it into her chest, and squinted at the private detective. “Public Library.” She replied shortly. “They co-wrote a paper back in 68 about a water distributed health supplement. Didn’t understand half of it, but the paper got a lot of interest from C.I.T and a few of the big drug companies back when it was published.”

Nick made no further comment, rubbing his chin with his thumb.

“In you’re article, you called them ‘murders’.” Nora murmured, not trusting herself to speak any louder. The others all turned to look at her. “Who…” She swallowed down a tight little lump of emotion. “Who were the other victims?”

She was looking at her hands, studying the way her knuckles where pale, how they were all bone and thin skin as they twisted the hems of her coat and dress together. As such, Nora didn’t see Piper when her eyes drained empty, didn’t see the muscle in her lower lip quiver, or how she pressed her mouth into a tight, thin line.

“Officer Wright.” Nick said into the weighted silence. “Salem P.D.”


	3. Thirteen isn’t your lucky number

It was late. Ellie had gone back to the Bay with Nora, leaving Nick with the rooky reporter and a whole tonne of questions.

“Hell of a statement to make.” He said through the lazy waft of his third cigarette. Neither of the ladies smoked, and he made a personal policy of not doing so around Shaun, but Piper didn’t mind, she was partial to one herself occasionally, when she could afford it. “'Crooked System'? All on the trail of two missing quacks?”

He had a hunch she was right. Biggest problem with Piper Wright was that she usually was right. Second biggest problem, that she knew it.

But, rather than her self-assured ‘Pssht!’ that Nick was expecting, Piper was quiet, holding a half-drunk Nuka Cola between her hands nervously. A lit cigarette, one of his own she’d talked him out of, dangling loosely between her ring and index finger. Elbows propped up on her knees as she bent forward, staring right through the spot where Nora had been sat.

Nick waited. She’d speak when she was ready. It was a quality they shared, strangely. Piper could be loud. Hell, she could be an outright racket when she wanted to be. He’d put his money on her in a shouting match any day. Nora by comparison was calmer, took things slower, weighed stuff out and gathered information before she picked a side. Gut feeling meet consideration.

When they were shaken by something though, both women dipped into themselves. Drew back, shut down. Best thing to do he’d found, was to give them time. Sometimes he’d need to offer up his battered old duster and the shoulder beneath to leave a few tears on. God knew it was probably the cleanest patch on the thing.

“She isn’t what I expected, you know?”

Nick raised an eyebrow, but said nothing, drawing in a long drag from his cigarette instead, passing the smoke out through his nose. Folks really did find comfort in the strangest of things.

The smudge on Piper’s left thumb rubbed at the label on the lukewarm bottle, leaving an inky print on its sticky underside. “’Avenging Angel’ of the people.” She muttered, a frown pulling her brows in tight. “Never expected an 'angel' to look so terrified.”

Tapping the ash into a salvaged soap tin lid, Nick held back a sigh. “She had a hell of a time of it kid.“ He said. “Same as you and Nat. Cut her some slack.”

With only the slightest tremor to her hands, Piper sucked down a burning breath of smoke, hoping it would sting, and dull the ache in her chest. “Damn it, Nick!” She snapped, getting to her feet and stamping the bottle down on her desk. “Give some warning next time you bring me a grieving widow and I put my foot right in it, would you!”

Her anger rolled off him without even a wince of acknowledgement. He was used to it.

“How the hell am I supposed to make it up to her?” Piper demanded, pacing up and down the creaking floorboards of her chaotic ‘press room’, gesturing at everything and nothing with wide swings of her arms. “I barely got enough to pull together that article, not nearly enough to bring before the DA, and all I got _her_ was a good old trip down memory lane.”

“First, you got nothing to apologise for.” Nick said firmly. “You were fine, Piper. Second, Nora’s not the type to hold it against you, even if you did upset her. Which I can guarantee you didn’t. Third, who said we were going anywhere near the DA with this?”

Piper kept pacing, though at least her arms were crossed now, no chance of any innocent bystanders being taken out by impassioned hand flaps. “What are you talking about?”

Nick grimaced. He’d left the service nearly five years ago, but he still had a few friends with a badge. Didn’t mean he liked the thought of going to them cap in hand. But, it might just put them on the some form of the right track.

“We’re going down to Precinct 8.” He said, tamping out his smoke amidst the small knoll of ash on the battered tin lid. “I got a old pal on duty tonight.”

Piper paled, hand gestures back with a vengeance. “Oh no. No, no, no, no, no.” She said in rapid fire bursts. “No way I’m going anywhere near the cops. You go? You’re going by yourself.”

* * *

Nora kissed the soft dark locks on her baby boy’s forehead, laying the rocket print blanket across the gentle rise and fall of his sleeping chest. He was such a good boy. Gina said he’d toddled off to fetch his blanket the very minute it had turned six, Mr Bear clasped tightly to his cheek.

He was her world.

She retreated on tip toes out into the corridor, holding in a chuckle when she saw the battered old fedora placed upon the low sidetable. She slid the door carefully shut behind her, leaving just an inch open so he could pull it open if he needed to. She peaked back through the gap, watching Shaun dream for a few seconds, then she turned away.

Codsworth was busy at the stove, humming one of his regular upbeat jingles, one eye swivelling to her as she sat at the spotless counter.

“Master Shaun all tucked in?” He asked cheerfully, keeping his other two eyes on the deathly serious task of not burning whatever concoction he was ‘rustling up’ for dinner.

Nora gave a weary smile. “Yes, he’s sleeping soundly. Anything arrive for us while we were out today, Codsworth?”

The run down of the days comings and goings washed over Nora in a warm tide. She nodded where she should, offered up sympathies when the robot regailed the usual despairs when recounting the behaviour of their neighbours and their offspring, but she wasn’t really taking much in.

When dinner, mac and cheese, was placed in front of her, she thanked Codsworth, and tired to eat dutifully.

_Officer Wright. Salem P.D._

_Shot, August 18 th 2073\. _

_Attempting to intervene in a violent struggle between two unknown men._

_Single bullet wound, centre of the forehead._

_One known witness._

_Victims daughter, one Piper Wright, aged 19._

Nora only managed a quarter of the meal. She put the remainder in the fridge, assuring Codsworth that she was just tired, politely refusing his offer of a late night coco to settle her. She bid the concerned Mr Handy goodnight, checked the doors were locked, then retreated into the empty quiet of her bedroom.

The mattress creaked beneath her when she dropped her exhausted body down upon it, dressed and ready for bed, even if sleep were the furthest thing from her mind.

It all seemed to fit. Cassy had been good enough to get her the file. A last minute favour, with the promise of speedy recompense should the need arise. The file was ludicrously thin. Just like Nate’s.

A half dozen sheets of single sided paper and three photographs to sum up a man’s life, and death.

Nora lay atop the blankets, knowing that she would be too warm if she lay beneath them. She closed her eyes, resting them while her mind worked over and over what she’d seen in the file.

There was so little information. Time of death. Cause. Crime scene photo. Official photo of the victim from his service file.

No ballistics report.

No post mortem.

The witness statement was only half a page long. She couldn’t bear to recall it.

Wrapped in the cooling shadows of her house, behind her eyes, she could see the third and final photograph.

It had to have been from when she was in high school, she looked so young. Sly smirk on her lips, laughter in her eyes, like someone just behind the camera had cracked a terrible joke, and the photographer had managed to capture the exact moment the notion of a worthy revenge had formulated in her mind.

Nora had Nick and Ellie. When Nate had died the pair had swooped in bedecked in the raiment of guardian angels. They’d pulled her through, picked up with Shaun when she couldn’t get herself to move from her bed, kept them both fed and watered, fielded cases her way with Gina’s help when they thought she was well enough to handle them.

Turning onto her side, Nora looked up to the picture of her wedding day. Four years ago. They all looked so much younger then. Ellie was barely out of college, just as bright eyed as ever. Nick with Jenny on his arm, the pair in stitches over the fact that Nate had just dabbed fresh cream from their wedding cake on Nora’s nose.

He’d looked so handsome. The boys from the 108th had taken him on some crazy adventure through the city the night before, but they’d managed to get him back on time, dressed to the nines, full military escort.

They’d come to his funeral too. The salute had frightened Shaun, and he howled into her chest when they lowered his daddy into the ground.

Nora turned away.

Who had Piper had? Who had stood with her? Held her when her dad’s coffin was covered over, when her baby sister asked when their daddy was coming back?

There had been no picture of the other daughter. Just a name, and the fact she was a minor. Natalie Wright.

Cassy hadn’t said a word when Nora had handed her the file back, though she undoubtedly saw the redness round her eyes. She’d made Nora solemnly promise to take care, and that she’d ring her first thing Saturday morning.

Ghosts wrapped their arms around her, and Nora weakly shivered in their embrace.

Tomorrow she’d leave Shaun with Gina, and head up to Salem.

* * *

“Remind me how I let you talk me into things like this?” Piper hissed sharply, head on a constant swivel as they crossed the rain-soaked street, ‘Police’ glowing beneath a sickly yellow down light.

Nick Valentine turned his collar up against the crisp damp chill, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. “How about my handsome good looks and my overwhelming charms?”

He caught Piper’s arm when she groaned and turned back towards her hovel.

“Because you can’t resist a story Miss Wright.” He said when they reached the dimly lit underpass entrance, Nick steering her by the elbow.

“I’ve seen cheerier rat’s nests.” Piper muttered under her breath as she looked around at the cracked blue tiles and chipped paint round the doorway.

“Kettle black, Piper.”

She promptly stamped on his foot, assuring that Nick not only let go of her arm, but that he also had to try and cover up an all too amusing limp as he hobbled up to the officer at the front desk.

“Captain Widmark’s up in his office.” Came the somewhat bored reply to his enquiry.

Nick nodded, pushing out a friendly smile while he tried to get feeling back into his toes. “Mind if we head up for a chat?”

The officer shrugged before jerking his thumb towards the nearby stairs.

“Much obliged.” Nick said, automatically reaching to doff his hat in appreciation, only to remember it's absence halfway through. Instead, resorting to a tight nod the private detective quickly moved towards the back stairs, not at all surprised when halfway up them, Piper asked after his missing signature garment.

“Didn’t have time to pick up a spare.” He grumbled into his collar, more annoyed that he’d forgotten it wasn’t on his head than its actual absence.

Piper sniggered.

Like everything else at the station, Captain Widmark’s office was in need of a bit more than 'a fresh coat of paint'. Wherever Boston P.D. sent the majority of their funding, it wasn’t here. Sandwiched awkwardly between dented filing cabinets accented with rust, and a sagging cork pinboard bare but for the words ‘Fens Phantom’ written in a messy hand and tacked to its centre, sat the overcrowded desk of one Captain Jonathan Widmark.

Good man, criminally overloaded, Nick summarised in his head when his old friend scowled up at them, clearly not happy at any interruptions, resigned to his quiet suicide via tedious paperwork.

“Hey there Wids.” Nick smiled, waving a hand when slow recognition crossed the man’s dour expression.

“Valentine?” Widmark squinted. “Where’s the hat?”

Piper did a poor job of masking her snort.

Nick dragged a hand over his growing headache. “I swear, a man is more than his hat you know.”

A slow smirk spread across his old friend’s face. "Isn’t it you whose always saying ‘the apparel oft proclaims the man’?”

Piper chuckled. “Sure sounds like something you’d say.”

Nick groaned.

“To what do I owe the pleasure Nick?” Widmark stood from his crooked stoop, popping a few aching joints before offering his hand up for a good humoured shake.

“Part business, part curiosity Johnathan.” Nick explained, warmly clasping his hand. “But first, this is my good friend, Miss Piper Wright.”

His 'good friend' could have throttled Nick on the spot. She was half tempted to, standing in a police station or not. But, if Widmark recognised the name he made no comment. Instead he gave her a quick, and rather flat smile. “Pleasure.”

“Likewise.” Piper replied, shooting Nick a glare as the Police Captain sat back down behind his desk.

“I need you to look up some names for me.” Nick didn’t bother with any more niceties, they’d covered the necessary, and both men had always preferred the more direct approach.

Widmark sat forwards, his chair creaking harshly in protest.

“Dr Madison Li, and Dr Brian Virgil.”

If the man didn’t play poker, he should definitely consider taking it up, Piper thought to herself. He didn’t even blink.

“This for a case Valentine?” He asked, pulling out a scrap of paper from the file to note down the names.

“Historical.” Nick replied. “Personal interest.”

If Piper wasn’t still mad at him, she might have found that sweet.

“Alright.” Widmark said, rolling his shoulders out, restricted by the tight confines of his uncomfortable uniform. “Anything else?”

Nick hesitated a beat, his gaze almost flicking over to Piper. “Yeah.” He said quietly, leaning his hands down upon the edge of the desk, the dented wood creakinig beneath the careful pressure. “One other thing. Nathanial James Adams.”

That got a reaction. Though Valentine only saw Jonathan's.

“You’ve seen the file a dozen times Nick.” Widmark said, a deep frown pulling his face down into a puzzled scowl. “Thirteen isn’t going to be your lucky number.”

“Just humour me.” He replied, not a drop of humour in his body.

“Fine.”

“Thanks Wids.” Nick stood straight shoving his hands back in his pockets.

Widmark simply waved them out, watching Nick leave out of the corner of his eye, before shaking his head and returning to the slow torture of filing.

“Alright, spill it.” Piper said, blocking Nick’s path.

They were back on her street now. Nearly every window was dark, even Nat’s, though Piper doubted she was actually asleep. Probably reading comics by torchlight, again.

“Spill what?” Nick asked, stamping his feet against the damp pavement to ward off the cold.

“Nate’s file.” She crossed her arms, leaning her weight back on her hip, sweeping the detective up and down with a merciless eye. “Why'd you ask for his file?”

Nick shrugged. “Curiosity.”

“Come on, do you really think I’m an idiot?” She huffed. “You’re on to something aren’t you? What do you think you’re gonna find there?”

Nick stepped around her and continued walking.

He didn’t stop again till they were outside her alleyway.

“It’s not what’s there.” He said, once Piper had stalked past him, already halfway down the splinter.

She turned back to him. It only took her a few seconds to work through the thought, before realisation steadily dawned across her face.

“Don’t say a thing to Nora.” Nick warned, fixing her with one of his rare and deadly serious expressions. “And stay out of trouble, Miss Wright.”

She locked, bolted and jammed the door behind her, using the warped handle of a useless broom dug into a handy crack in the floor board. She lingered a few moments in the icy air of their pitiful little kitchen, thumbing the fraying hem of her scarf.

_‘It’s not what’s there.’_

Piper breathed in deeply, then she let her whisper fill just enough of the silence around her so she could hear it, letting the memory of it trail behind her as she went up to bed.

“It’s what’s missing.”


	4. Visitor to Salem

The drive up to Salem was quiet. There was a thick sea mist, enough that for the majority of trip north of Cambridge she’d had to slow the car to a crawl. She parked the it just across the street from the Drumlin Diner, stepped out, and wrapped her coat tightly around herself.

Autumn was creeping up on Boston with a vengeance now, the weather turning by the day. With the mist shrouding the buildings it impressively oppressive. Despite it all she could see the church, and if Codsworth’s instructions were correct he Police station should be on the next street over.

Wishing she’d worn thicker tights, Nora marched her way across the deserted street, and made a beeline for the corner.

She wasn’t expecting much really. Since the new electronic system had been introduced a few years back, nearly all files were automatically sent into the city. Local branches rarely held back copies any more. Still, she couldn’t quite bring herself to believe that Mr Wright had never had an autopsy.

Three years ago, in those months after Nate’s death, she doubted she would have noticed much of anything short of the bomb going off, but when she’d asked Gina that morning she’d been shocked to discover she’d not heard of the case. An Officer shot on duty in front of his teenage daughter? If nothing else there should have been a city funeral. The Police honour their own, just like the army, or at least that is what Nate had always said.

The front desk at the station was manned by a bright-eyed young officer, who blushed as soon as Nora smiled at him. She could work with that. Her cheerful enquiries got her escorted access to the records room, the young man all too eager to help her locate any associated files with early autumn 2073.

All the enthusiasm in the world couldn’t find something that had never been written however, and after half an hour of searching, Nora relented, thanking the young man for his valuable assistance, and declined the offer to summon the Captain for her to speak to.

Salem had no local records office. It was far too small, and Boston was far too close. But there was the church. Nora looked up at its gleaming white slats, almost blinding in the washed out light. She had nothing else to really go on, so rubbing her hands together against the chill she walked round to the freshly swept entrance, and pushed open the right-hand door.

The hinge was thankfully well oiled, her entrance unobtrusive, and unnoticed by the small scattering of parishioners inside. There was the whisper of prayer, and the hint of candlewax and old paper on the moderately warmer air. She carefully closed the door and slid into one of the rear pews. There was a priest at the front of the church, clearly leading the service.

Neither of them had really fallen in with religion. They’d married at the registry office, and Shaun had never been baptised. Despite that, Nora had always found some small comfort in churches, something familiar and constant about how no matter the locale there was nearly always that same smell of ancient dust and wood stained over centuries to be found.

Luck had it that the priest moved straight to his closing prayer after the reflective silence. When finished, after seeing each of his flock on their way, he turned to Nora and approached her with a warm fatherly smile.

“Welcome Miss, are you a visitor to Salem? I don’t believe I’ve seen you here before?”

Nora shook his offered hand, standing from the pew. “No father, I’ve come to track down some records if you could spare the time?”

“Of course, come.” He ushered her up to the altar and then through to the small room beyond. “Birth, marriage, or burial?” He asked, already heading over to an overloaded bookshelf practically groaning under the weight of the small town’s history. “Would you like some tea?”

Nora set her handbag down on the lone table. “No, thank you. It’s a burial unfortunately, recent. August 73.”

The elderly priest nodded gravely though he didn’t look back at her, instead he ran his gnarled hands over the numerous tomes, squinting in the poor light till he located the most recent in the collection.

“Ah! Here we are.” With a wheezing heft, and the absolute point blank refusal of any assistance from the much younger woman, the elderly priest carried the weighty tome over to the table, a plume of dust rising as he shakily opened the leather bound volume.

“Now,” He coughed, reaching over to a rounded pair of fragile glasses, and peering down upon what must have served as the contents, years and months listed in an orderly, if shaky hand. “You said August, didn’t you my dear?”

Nora nodded, moving around the table to better see the entries as the priest turned through the years. “Arthur Wright.” Nora said, the press of so many lives before softening her voice, her eyes skimming over name after name, searching and waiting.

The priest nodded sagely. “He was a good man. Always stopped by to check in during late night services. Terrible business what happened to him, simply terrible.”

Nora’s focus darted to the old man. “Yes.” She said. Then, carefully she asked “It was terrible. Do you know what happened to his family, afterwards?”

The shake of his head was slow and sad. “They were good girls. Headstrong, but that was just their way. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like it.” His careful turn through the pages slowed, his eyes no longer reading the names.

Wary of missing the entry Nora made sure to keep her focus as the old man’s wandered.

“I thought it was a cat at first.” He said. “Some poor creature hit by a late driver. It happens you know, more poor creatures than I care to count are buried round the edges of the plot. Some people scoff, asking why I don’t just throw the body away, but they’re as much the Lords creation as anything. They deserve respect.”

“What was it?” Nora pressed gently, reading through the last few entries in July of 73. “What, if not a cat?”

The priest turned the page, and there it was. Stark, clear. Written no doubt in his own hand.

_Arthur Wright_

_Died: August 18 th 2073_

_Interred: Charter Street Cemetery August 20 th 2073_

_Fees Paid: Boston Police Department, Captain Jonathan Widmark_

“His daughter.”

Nora froze, two competing pieces of information warring in her mind. She turned to the priest, jaw slack, eyes gaping, pulse loud and slow in her ears.

There were tears in the old man’s eyes, gathering along the thin metal rim of his crooked glasses.

“It was his daughter. She was holding her father.”

Nora swallowed down the terrible lump in her throat. She carefully lay her hand upon the priests, thanking him for his help. He nodded mutely, and did not protest when she closed the volume and lifted it back into place on the shelf.

She wasn’t sure if he noticed her departure. She dropped a few coins into the collections box at the entrance, stopping briefly in the doorway, looking down at the smooth unbroken surface of the single step.

She shut her eyes tight, drew in a breath of mist that quivered on her lips, then she turned herself southwards. She could see the name clearly on the slick metal street sign, and followed its directions.

The mists seemed thicker here, if it were possible. Nora could just make out the tall pale shadows of the ancient oak trees, standing their solemn sentry over the dead at their feet. She quietly walked down the rows, picking her way through the dew soaked grass, pulling her coat tighter around her numbed body, as countless personal sorrows passed before her eyes.

She found him eventually, tucked away in a quiet corner of the silent cemetery, beneath the boughs of another ancient guardian tree. His name was picked out cleanly upon the blue-grey stone.

_Arthur Wright_

_June 14 th 2030 – August 19th 2073_

_Loving father, exemplary member of the community._

Finally, Nora let her tears fall.

* * *

The cellophane crinkled sharply beneath her tensing grip as Piper looked through the familiar metal gateway. She could just turn around and leave. No one would know. Not even Nat, as much as her little sister liked to boast that she knew everything. She could leave the flowers on a different grave, one neglected and forgotten, old and completely meaningless to her.

Dad would know.

Her boots crunched as she walked down the tired gravel path, the scattering of autumns fiery harvest littering the grounds as leaves tumbled through the milking air. The sea mist was a god send. No one sane would be out wandering in this, she could slip in and out before anyone caught wind she’d even been contemplating a visit.

It wasn’t home for her. Not anymore. It would always be familiar. She’d always have memories of the place. But her home in Salem had died the same day her dad died. One day she’d stop coming back. Just, not yet.

The flowers were cheap. Some of the blooms were already fading. She didn’t know what they were. Plants had never been her strong suit. Nat would probably know. Kid was too damn clever for her own good. Took after there dad in that way.

They were red, the flowers, and Piper knew that would be enough for him. He’d always loved red. Joked once that he’d petition the DA’s office to change the uniform.

“Much more heroic.” He’d said, striking a stupid pose that had made Nat giggle and Piper roll her eyes.

She frowned down at he wilting petals, pulling at a particularly loose one, holding up on the pad of her finger, examining it in the wintery light. Heroes didn’t make for good parents.

“Piper?”

Her head snapped up, feet frozen to the muddy spot.

“Nora?”

The two women stared at each other.

“What are you doing here?” Piper asked, checking, and seeing that yep, this was her dad’s spot alright.

A flash of panic crossed the older woman’s attractive features, and much to Piper’s initial confusion, then surprise she noticed the tell-tale streaks running down her cheeks.

“I…” Nora glanced back at her dad’s head stone.

Piper saw the woman pause a breath, close her eyes, then draw up from somewhere deep down more honesty than Piper thought possible.

“I came to check the local records, and pay my respects to your father. I’m sorry Piper, I should have spoken to you first.” She looked back, and saw the crumpled bouquet in her hands. “I’ll let you have some privacy.”

“Wait!”

The cellophane wrapper protested limply until Piper managed to ease her desperate grip. She’d made a mess of the stems. Well, she thought bitterly, at least they matched the blooms now.

Nora stopped, half turned away from the no doubt sorry sight.

“Please,” Piper couldn’t bring herself to look at her directly. “Could you stay?”

There was an unbearable gentleness to the woman’s gaze. She smiled, oh so softly, then she nodded.

She stood beside her while Piper unwrapped the meagre broken stems, taking the horrible plastic out of her shaking hands, folding it delicately and slipping in into her handbag. She waited while Piper knelt down on the soft, cold ground, and carefully lay each messy offering over her dad’s grave.

And when Piper stood, when she tried to speak, to tell the barren stone bearing his name, all that he was missing as his daughters grew up without him, Nora placed her hand upon her shoulder and let the young woman cry out her grief.


	5. Terrible Coffee

“Sorry, about all that.”

Piper thumbed the narrow neck of the Nuka bottle, icy condensation gathering on her skin.

Nora had been halfway to taking a sip from her coffee, garish ceramic mug lifted to her neatly painted lips. She stopped and looked at Piper over its rim, the barest hint of a frown creasing her brows.

She didn’t speak immediately. With a few delicate breaths across the steaming coffee, she cooled it enough to drink and took a sip, gaze falling to a distant point beyond the plastic tabletop between them.

From beneath the security of her limply hanging hair, Piper watched her. Nora’s eyelids fluttered a little as she drank, dark lashes brushing lightly over her cheeks.

The daily hubbub of the diner filled the silence comfortably, the chatter of folks just doing their usual, the clatter of cutlery on the scratched china. It was all strangely comforting, and in its peculiar way, it settled Piper a little. That was until the lawyer carefully placed her drink back upon the table and lifted her cobalt blue eyes to her once more.

“Sorry about what?” She asked.

Her stained fingers, mostly with the usual black typing ink, but now with a little graveyard dirt blended in for good measure, fiddled furiously with the bottle. “Crying.” Piper said quietly. “I… I know folks don’t feel comfortable… not that I’m saying its your problem if you were! It’s just you know, if you were… I wanted to…”

Someone behind the counter, probably out in the kitchen, dropped a plate. The resonant shatter briefly halted all conversation in the diner.

Piper was finished anyway. When conversation slowly trickled back, first in the booths either side of them, then along the tall counter, she did not continue.

She must think I’m an idiot, she huffed, taking a harsh swig from the bottle between her hands. The stuff was already flat.

“You didn’t.”

She jerked her head back up, staring soundlessly at the woman across from her.

“You didn’t make me uncomfortable.” Nora said. She canted her head slightly to the left, a small, tender smile glimmering back at Piper. “So, unless you’ve actually done something wrong…?”

The younger woman blinked, twice, then hurriedly shook her head.

Nora chuckled beneath her breath. “Good. Then that’s settled.”

Jesus, Piper hunched her neck forwards, hoping to hide the prickling rosy redness of her cheeks in the upturned collar of her trench coat.

“Do you come back here often?” Nora asked, resting her cheek against the heel of her hand, propping her elbow up on the table. Her smile a knowing one, unbeknownst to the cowering woman across from her.

“Every month or so.” Piper muttered into the dirty fabric of her scarf. “Depends on if I can get flowers.”

“You never come back to visit friends?”

Piper shook her head.

“What about family?”

“Nope. Mum’s…” She snorted bitterly, using the dull spike of anger to fortify herself, enough to lift her face out of her collar. “She’s out of the picture.”

If Piper was expecting some commentary on that, she’d be disappointed. Nora was quietly looking out the wide windows. The glass was smeared with a few generations of greasy fingers, the fog outside hadn’t budged, the other side of the street a mysterious and distant place.

“So, it’s just you and your sister then.” Nora said.

“Yep.” Piper sighed. “Just me and Nat… Wait, how did you know..?”

There was a tinny little scrap of metal above the diner’s swing door. The boss had hung it there a few decades ago. A trap to catch the late-night customers who tried to skip out on the bill. Only the criminally generous could call it anything close to a bell. Most found it profoundly irritating.

Still it did its job, and when it clattered its way across the dented door Piper found herself unconsciously looking just over Nora’s shoulder, over to the entranceway.

Just her luck that the asshole that swaggered in, saw her in exactly that same moment.

“Shit!” Piper hissed, ducking her head in vain hope that for once he’d go after someone else and just pass her by.

Polished boots squeaked against the linoleum, with every step a ring of useless keys swung, jangling from a thick black belt, right alongside the standard 10mm pistol, out on proud display.

He stopped right at their table, stance planted as wide as the smirk plastered right across his smug face. Piper refused to give him the satisfaction. She kept her head down, her gaze fixed squarely on the gaudy yellow surface of the scratched diner table.

“Been a while, Miss Wright.”

Piper squeezed the Nuka Cola bottle tightly and said nothing.

“Can I help you with anything Officer?” Nora was the absolute picture-perfect vision of polite enquiry.

The spit shine black boots screeched, their owner turning sharply towards the other occupier of the booth.

“No mam. Just checking in with an old friend. It’s Captain by the way. Captain Mayburn.”

Nora shook the all to quickly offered hand congenially. His grip was firm, solid, and lingered just a hair too long around her slight fingers.

“Nora Adams.” She offered back.

Piper risked a glance up. The bastards focus was entirely on Nora now. God, the way that smug smirk had sunk, it made her skin crawl.

“This girl not giving you any trouble is she mam?”

“Not at all.” Nora gave a pleasant little laugh. She looked across at Piper and with complete sincerity, “Piper is never trouble.”

The scoff from Mayburn was anything but pleasant. He looked down his hard chiselled nose at her. He didn’t need to say it out loud, his expression screamed it loud and clear.

Just give it time.

She glared back at him, bottle discarded in favour of just her own fists now, balled up tight, knuckles bleach white beneath the ink and the mud.

“Back off Mayburn.” It escaped her in a rushed murmur, barely loud enough to register above the background din of the diner. Didn’t matter though. He heard it, and so did Nora.

The leather on the man’s belt creaked as he leant forwards, one hand spread out across the table, the other hanging near his hip. The thick muscle in his shoulders clenched into stony slabs, his jaw twisting to one side as the smirk soured further into a fat flat line.

“You say something, pipsqueak?”

A deep, vivid hatred rose up from somewhere instinctual. It wrapped itself around her rib cage, coiling so tightly Piper struggled to keep her breathing steady.

“I said. Back. Off.”

He huffed. “You miss your suite that much huh? I’m sure I can think up some felony to correct that.”

The gentle rattle of metal on china cut through the air like a bolt of summer lightning.

Mayburn turned to glare at the interruption. He found two expertly honed pinpricks of cold blue disgust, hidden with spotless deniability beneath an attractive full lipped smile.

“I’m afraid it’s time we need to be getting back to the office.” Nora said pleasantly. “If there was nothing else, Captain?” She finished dropping the small change onto the saucer, letting each coin fall alone.

_Tchink._

_Tchink._

_Tchink._

With every coin Mayburn’s brow twitched. When the last coin hit the pile he flinched, standing upright, scowling down at the older woman, unsettled in a way he couldn’t justify to himself.

He didn’t say a word, stepping back when they slid out from their seats. Watching closely as Nora wound her arm through Piper’s, leading her away, out into the mists. He stayed there, watching as they got into Nora’s car. And he didn’t move again until the red taillight was lost to the swirling fog. 

* * *

Her grip on the wheel was steady as she carefully navigated through the familiar streets of Cambridge, the thick fog having eased a little, just the other side of Medford. Thankfully the roads were still quiet.

“Are you alright?” Nora asked, keeping her eyes on the road.

Silence followed.

The wide green gardens of C.I.T. came and went, the tall aged oaks still somehow maintaining their summer plumage, despite the year growing chill. The Charles sluggishly slipped by on the other side of the road. Great grime-grey mass of water stretching out, disappearing into the mist before it reached the opposite bank.

Piper hadn’t said a word since the diner.

Nora turned the car left, heading over the University bridge, Cambridge disappearing behind them, Fenway lingering somewhere ahead. There was nothing but bridge, river and fog, and for a moment the city beyond, all the people, all the problems, simply fell away.

“Thanks.”

Nora risked a momentary glance over to the passenger seat. Piper was looking out the front window, eyes puffy and smudged, lips tightly pressed together.

“You’re welcome.” Nora murmured back, drifting back to the road, grip a little tighter on the wheel.

The Fens loomed large and she turned down the first left, heading towards Chestnut Hillock. She wouldn’t risk driving through the Fens proper. Not with Piper in the car. Not when she had more than enough already on her plate. She didn’t need Nora’s baggage added to her troubles.

If Piper noticed she didn’t comment.

When they pulled into the murky carpark, once Nora switched off the engine, Piper spoke again.

“He’s always been like that. Even before dad died.”

Nora watched her as the younger woman picked at the fraying hem of her scarf, tugging a lime green strand free, rolling it between her fingertips, its faded fibres twisting in the bleached light.

“Is he the reason you don’t go back?” Nora asked.

Piper sighed, nose scrunching up tightly. “One of many.”

They got out of the car and stood for a moment in silence, each lost in their own thoughts.

“Thanks. For, you know, driving me back.” Piper flicked her fingers in the general direction of the vehicle. She stepped away, eyes studying the pavement with a narrow focus. “I’ll see you around I guess.”

Nora quickly moved forward, hand half reaching out to her. “Piper, wait.”

The young woman paused, nervously looking up at Nora from behind a few twisted strands of dark greasy hair.

She crossed the distance between them, coming to a stop by her side. “Let me walk you home?”

Permission came in the form of the tiniest of nods.

The fog helped her forget. As they walked Nora managed to make herself believe they were walking down a completely different street, a hundred miles away from Fenway. It gave her the space to focus on what was most important in that moment. The young woman beside her.

“I went to the public records office yesterday.” She explained, carefully matching her stride to Piper’s. “That’s how I knew you had a sister. It’s part of the reason I went up to Salem this morning.”

“Jeez, and Nick calls me nosey.”

Nora paled, frantically turning to profusely apologise. Only to find Piper grinning at her, the expression terribly fragile, yet at the same time overwhelmingly cocky.

Her shoulders sagged in relief. “I suppose we have that in common then.” Nora smiled.

She was wonderfully rewarded with a breathless little chuckle. “Guess we do.”

They crossed an almost deserted road, the quiet between them much more companionable this time.

“Her names Natalie.” Piper said as they rounded the corner of her street, her pace slowing considerably. “Though, you should just call her Nat.”

“Right.” Nora’s smile softened. “Nat, I’ll make sure I remember. How old is she?”

“The file didn’t say?”

It hadn’t but Nora kept that to herself. “I’d rather hear it from you.”

A patchy blush flowered across the younger woman’s cheeks. “She’s nine, going on forty.” She muttered into her scarf.

Nora laughed brightly, “Sounds like there’s quite a few stories to tell there.”

“Hmph. You have no idea Blue.”

“Blue?”

They stopped just outside the splinter, Piper’s blush burning all the brighter.

“Well… you know… your, um…” The younger woman spluttered quite helplessly, gesturing widely in the general rough area of her face.

“My…?” Nora pressed, drawing out the single syllable. She allowed herself a small coquettish little smirk. She wasn’t often such a tease, but something about this woman seemed to pull the words out of her.

Piper buried her head in her hands, groaning. “You’re terrible.” She muttered, turning to scamper to the safety of the alleyway.

“For the record,” Nora called after her, leaning her hip against the damp red brick of the building, smile soft once more when Piper sheepishly turned back to look at her. “I like it.”

A second groan followed her first, accompanied by what sounded suspiciously like

“Me too.”


	6. Cold Concerns

“You’re certain?” Nick pressed the rough little speaker harder to his ear, determined to hear every word.

“Plain as day. It was Jonathan’s name on the register.” Nora sounded worn out, strung thin along the phone's dodgy line. “Have you ever met the Captain up at Salem?”

“Ah.” Nick sighed, that explained part of it. “I have had that distinct displeasure, yes.”

“He confronted Piper this morning.” Nora said.

Somewhere in the background Nick could hear Shaun babbling happily away to the Mr Handy, completely unaware of the quiet rage in his mother’s voice.

“How’d that go?” Nick asked, waving goodnight to Ellie as she passed by the office door.

The sigh, deep and weary told him all he needed to know.

“I’ll talk to her.”

“Thanks Nick.”

He leant back in his battered old swing chair, resting his feet up on the edge of his crowded desk, careful to avoid the three files that perched near the edge. “Do you know why she was there?”

From the sounds of it, Nora had taken the long cable phone through into another room, Shaun’s voice becoming quieter, the gentle swish of one of the sliding doors against its’ expertly maintained runners.

“She went to visit her dad.”

“Ah.” Nick nodded to himself, feeling that familiar old ache in his chest, the same one he got when he went with Nora to visit Nate. “Gotcha.”

He could hear the creak of the bed, Nora must be in her bedroom. The beat of silence that followed was heavy.

“I’m sure she’ll be okay come sunup.” Nick said, trying to reassure her. “She’s tough, far tougher than she looks.”

The response was meagre and thoroughly unconvinced. “Yeah.”

He couldn’t help the little huff of amusement that sputtered down the line.

“Something funny Mr Valentine?”

Greater men than Nick had crumbled under the press of that particular tone. Luckily, he had no intention of denying his reaction.

“Piper would give her trench a run for its money, if she knew you were this worried about her.” He explained, thinking back to the rookie reporters distress the evening before. At how terrified she was when she thought she’d upset Nora.

A breathy little laugh returned to him down the line. “She _is_ rather easy to fluster. I’ll give you that.”

That quirked Nick’s brow. He sat a little straighter in his chair, almost knocking the files from his desk. “Should I be concerned?” He asked, keeping his voice light and friendly.

“For who?” Nora asked quietly. “For her? Or for me?”

“Both.” He answered without hesitation.

“And you call _her_ nosey.”

“Nora.”

He heard her sigh, imagined her running a weary hand through her hair, leaving the fingers tangled there as her shoulders drooped a little in the soft shadows of her room. “I like her Nick.” Nora admitted. “But, more than anything, I just want to help her. She’s… she’s been on her own in all this far too long. I had you and Ellie to keep _me_ together. Piper… Piper needs some good friends right about now.”

Nick let out a silent breath. “You’re right about that.” He murmured, playing with the loose end of his tie absently. “For the record, I wouldn’t exactly disapprove.”

Nora chuckled. He could hear her radiant smile down the line. “Don’t go making any plans. Having you walk me down the aisle once was more than enough.”

He smirked. “I’ll have you know I cut a damn good line in a suit, Ms Adams.”

“A fact I have no intention of denying, Mr Valentine.”

Nick heard the door open, and a button cute little voice asked if he could speak to his ‘Uncle Nick’ now.

“I’ll come by the office tomorrow morning.” Nora said, no doubt lifting her little boy up onto her lap so he could take the phone from her.

“Looking forward to it.” Nick replied, waiting in the soft rustling afterwards for the phone to be passed to Shaun.

* * *

The aggravating little green cursor flickered in an all to regular beat. It was almost certainly mocking her. She was sure it was at least enjoying its consistent failure to be helpful.

_No files matching those terms were found._

_Please enter new search parameters._

Her fingers tapped rhythmically as she attempted to do just that.

_The Fens. 2073. May. Autopsy Report._

She hit the enter key with an entirely unnecessary amount of force, sat back, and waited, trying her best to ignore the predictable pulse of the box cursor.

_No files matching those terms were found._

_Please enter new search parameters._

With a despairing hand she rubbed rough circles over her tired eyes. It made no sense. An entire month’s worth of reports did not simply up and vanish.

Empty coffee mug in hand, the exhausted junior pathologist got up from her desk, crossed the spotless lab, and ventured out into the lonely corridors of Milton General Hospital. Since the board had pushed them further towards automation, the basement was really the only place a person could feel lonely. All the floors above hummed with the stabilising propulsion of a hundred robots.

She didn’t mind them honestly. They were efficient, mostly competent, at least where wet work was involved. You couldn’t replace a human Doctor or Nurse, and you certainly couldn’t trust the robots to preform surgeries, despite what all the posters said. They were actually quite pleasant to converse with too, in a strictly functional way. They were at least always polite.

Locating the break room, reflexively setting her mug beneath the dispenser and pressing the required tapestry of settings to produce something half way drinkable, she let herself indulgently close her eyes for a few precious moments, leaning back against the counter top.

Ophelia had been right. An hour of asking the archive nicely, followed by another three of much less gracious enquiries, and she’d turned up nothing. No records, no audited entries, no scrap of code, or nugget of data that could have hinted at an entry. The archive was simply blank.

It must have been recent. She was certain she’d browsed through a few cases last spring. A case of suspected myocardial infarction, last few days of July, but the post mortem had taken a few more days to be properly documented. Wonders of inefficient bureaucratic management. Ophelia wanted her to use the case in their previous paper, if she recalled correctly.

The boisterous little machine to her side shrilly squeaked, rousing the young doctor from the not quite doze she’d drifted into. With a deep sigh she retrieved the grainy sludge, swilling it tentatively around the inoffensively stained rim of her mug, and headed back to the lab.

She _must_ have seen the other entries from August. She _remembered_ the file from the myocardial infarction case. As it happened the patient had died from a spontaneous myocardial infarction, caused by the build up of pressure in her left coronary artery. Not very useful for their paper in the end, but she and Ophelia had at least been able to cross the _suspected_ from the file, and replace the entry on the death certificate to _Actual Myocardial Infarction – Heart Attack_.

There would be hell to pay tomorrow when Ophelia found out she’d spent all night testing her theory. Well perhaps it should be _confirming_ her _observations_.

There wasn’t honestly that much she had any real reason to be angry about. It wasn’t like they were all that busy anyway. The department had been quiet since the summer, always was. When flu season started up again, maybe they’d have a few more cases on their hands.

She sat back down in her softly protesting office chair and sipped at the ‘coffee’. Just as foul and tasteless as it always was. She huffed ironically to herself and the sterile surroundings. At least there was _some_ consistency around this hospital.

Backing out of the search enquiries, she tabbed over to her intranet mail. It was unlikely anyone would still be up to send requests this time of night, but it made her feel better to be certain.

Two new messages sat waiting for her. One from the front desk, an external query, judging from the headline. The other was from Ophelia.

She managed to muster up the discipline not to go straight to the personal message. Instead she tapped the official enquiry, scanning through the neat and unsurprisingly clinical request.

_Dr Collins,_

_Please locate and forward any files the hospital maintains on the following three individuals:_

_Dr Madison Li_

_Dr Brian Virgil_

_Mr Nathanial Adams_

_Request comes from the Boston Police department, Precinct 8, Captain Jonathan Widmark._

_Your prompt compliance would be appreciated,_

_Milton General Hospital, Public Relations Department._

She shook her head, fetching up the little notepad she kept in the top draw and jotting down the names. She’d try, but with the archive the way it was, she didn’t hold out much hope.

She’d come across Dr’s Li and Virgil before. They’d been leading an interesting study into liquid distributed protein supplements some years ago. Her father had raised an interest in it, reading through the publications at the breakfast table while she poured through her textbooks. Both of them equal contributors to her mother’s frequent and vocal bouts of faux despair.

Putting the notepaper to one side she returned to the terminal, navigating her way to Ophelia’s message.

_Curie,_

_I found something I wasn’t meant to see. There were too many inconsistencies in the entries, so I went up to Cambridge to see Sam at Kendall. He thought I was kidding around, Couldn’t believe that the sample wasn’t a hoax. Not until I showed him the photographs, then he believed me._

_I’m not sure what’s happening. I don’t want to jump to any conclusions, but I really don’t know what this thing is. So, I’m not coming in for a while, I’ve got some holidays saved up._

_I’ve left a copy of the photographs in my desk, top draw, take them and keep them safe. I’ll get a message to you in the next few days. If you don’t hear from me before Tuesday get the file to someone in the city who can use it._

_Stay safe sweetheart,_

_Ophelia_

The draw was locked, but she knew where the key was. With a shaking hand she barely managed to unlock it. The plain manila envelope looked so innocent, dainty even, lying neatly over the various keepsakes and supplies Dr Olivette liked to keep close to hand. Curie picked up the envelope with her fingertips. It was weighty for such a little thing.

She hurried over to the closest table, swung the examination light to hang over her, and flicked the switch. She blinked hard as the harsh white light bounced off the pristine metal.

Upending the envelope, she carefully spread out the contents, and immediately recoiled in horror.


	7. High Way

The monorail was always packed on the weekends. People, usually at their nine to fives, flocked into the city in droves. She was blessed to get a seat at all considering. The woman next to her made light conversation, something about a feature in the Bugle the day before. Nora listened politely.

The train pulled sluggishly out of Lexington, the tall stacks of the Corvega plant looming high above them, and started out steadily towards the city.

Shaun bounced away on her lap, pointing out chimneys, ponds, the occasional seagull, and what ever else happened to catch his attention in the moment. He loved the rare days they took the Monorail into the city. There was so much more to see, when the world was below you.

Most of the time Nora preferred to drive them into Cambridge, if the weather was nice they’d then walk across Harvard bridge and Shaun would look out across the river at the boats, if it wasn’t so nice they’d catch a bus instead. There were benefits having the office so close to the Public Library, transport was never an issue, research was close to hand, and Valentine Detective agency was just across the square.

If the monorail was packed the roads would be gridlocked, so on the rare weekends they ventured into Boston they always went the high way.

Mr Bear had his nose pressed up to the glass as they passed over the Charles river, Shaun hauling himself up to see the boats, Nora holding him steady as the compartment made its usual judders.

“He’s a bright boy.” The lady beside them observed, smiling helplessly at the toddler when he hooked an arm around Nora’s neck, half a hug, half a means to get her to look at the tall mast of the resident USS Constitution. Old Ironsides.

Sweeping a few thick dark curls aside Nora kissed her son’s forehead and coaxed him back down to her lap again, the docks disappearing between the encroaching skyscrapers.

He was. He was like her in that way, her mother had always told her she had been a bright child. Eager to learn, to explore the world around her. It was funny in a way, Shaun looked so much like his daddy. To look at pictures of Nate back when he was that age, it was honestly a little scary. All except his eyes, those were Nora’s. Bright, blue and sharp as pins.

_Blue._

She wondered what Piper was doing today. Maybe she’d be out with Nat? Taking her little sister to the park? Perhaps she’d be chasing down leads for her next article?

Nick would likely know. He said he’d check in with her at some point. She did hope she was alright.

_You miss your suite that much huh? I’m sure I can think up some felony to correct that._

Shaun wriggled a little as her grip tightened. She apologised, gently rearranging his parting as he did the same for Mr Bear, his little nose scrunched up in complete concentration.

Mayburn’s smug smirk slid into her mind. She hated people like that. Give them a little bit of power and it went straight to their egos. Piper had said he’d always been like that. God, what had growing up around that been like, especially considering he was also her dad’s boss. But, he wasn’t the only reason she didn’t go back to Salem. Nora wondered what else kept her away.

Shaun held her hand tightly, leading her out of the station with the confidence only a three-year-old could possess, Mr Bear clutched under his other arm. For all his innumerable qualities, the toddler was a remarkably quiet child. He rarely spoke if they were out in public, and he seldom ever cried. Gina called him a little angel for that reason alone, but Nora wasn’t so sure.

Maybe he didn’t think it was right to cry, maybe he thought that was something only adults did. The theory nearly broke Nora’s heart.

It was far warmer today, the sun shone down upon them, unobstructed by cloud or sea mist. Far more pleasant to walk around in, but it also meant her pavements were crowded. She let Shaun and Mr Bear escort her solemnly to the edge of the Station’s concourse, but then scooped them both up into her arms, and carried them the rest of the way.

They reached the doorway to Nick’s office within twenty minutes. Nora put her son down and watched proudly as he straightened his shoulders, set his jaw, and using the flat of his fist rather than his knuckles knocked five times on the hardwood door.

There was the sound of footsteps and a voice half muffled that Nora didn’t recognise. Then in a strange moment of Deja vu the door swung open, and a much smaller, much fiercer version of a certain rookie reporter stood in the doorway.

Shaun squeaked, immediately stepping back, pushing into her legs, and hiding behind Mr Bear’s placid exterior. Nora opened her mouth, to say what she wasn’t sure. There really was little doubt in her mind to who this was. She was spared the deliberation as a very familiar someone called out to them from the inner office.

“Nat, I really don’t think Nicky’s looking for a bouncer, you know.”

“There’s a lady with a kid out here.” The girl yelled back, looking Nora up and down before settling on Mr Bear with a wrinkled little frown of confusion. “And a bear.”

Nora couldn’t supress her laughter as a single beat of silence fell across the adjoining rooms, before two more sets of footsteps made their way out from the inner office.

“Ah.” Nick chuckled, placing a firm hand on the girl’s shoulder, gently easing her aside so he could kneel in front of the cowering little boy. “Don’t worry kid, I know this fine gentleman here quite well. Morning Mr Bear.”

Shaun peaked out ever so slowly from behind his fluffy companion, a smile of utter relief gradually spreading across his face. He held out his arms and hugged the grizzled detective tight, little arms clamping firmly around his neck. Nick gathered him up, before giving his mother a quick peck on the cheek and a warm one-armed hug.

“Morning Nick.” She smiled, following him through, closing the door behind her.

“Oh god! I’m so sorry. Nat can be a little loud sometimes, he’s alright isn’t he? I’m so…”

“Piper.” Nora said with a wealth of fondness she wasn’t at all surprised by.

The younger woman stopped talking, pressing her chin firmly down into her scarf.

“It’s alright.” She assured her, shucking off her pale cream coat and turning to hang it on the stand beside the door. “Shaun is a little shy, he’ll be alright once he gets to know you both.”

She didn’t see the wide-eyed astonishment that ricocheted across Piper’s expression, nor did she notice how closely the younger woman watched her tease her dark hair out from the fold of her collar.

“So, you’re Nora.” Came a self-assured hip high observation from their left.

Nora turned her head at the girl. “And you must be Nat.” She said, fixing the last few strands of hair into place. She gave a firm nod and offered up her hand. “It’s nice to meet you Nat.”

Nat looked at her offered hand, then her face, then her sister, then the hand again, and made absolutely no move to shake it.

Piper gave a little groan of despair beside her, muttering into her ear. “Told you. Nine going on forty.”

The younger Wright sister clearly heard her, she snapped a scowl up at Piper so quickly Nora was surprised she didn’t sprain something.

“Ellie will give me an ear full Monday if you mess up her office.” Nick called from beyond the open doorway.

They filed through, Nat settling herself at once in the ragged armchair Nick had pushed up near the largest of his bookshelves. She took out a comic from a stash on the third shelf up, opened it, and was lost to the world.

Piper shook her head, though a gentle little grin pulled at the corner of her mouth, moving over to one of two chairs set at a slight angle in front of Nick’s desk. Nora went to the other, noticing with quiet amusement that Shaun was in prime position sat with Nick the other side, Mr Bear placed in pride of place on his own lap.

“What a lucky man I am with such lovely ladies and fine gentlemen in my office.” Nick said.

Piper rolled her eyes. “Uh huh. Flattery like that will get you nowhere.”

* * *

The chair creaked, protesting as she lent back, looking through the open doorway. The little boy messily kissed Nora’s cheek, reaching out from Nick’s arms to hold onto her a little bit longer. His mother carefully soothed away his fears, whispering softly until he let her go and settled back, his tiny fist gripping Nick’s coat.

Nat stood by the door. She’d been impatient to go the moment it had been suggested. Comics were her greatest weakness after all. A trip to Hubris with Nick, who’d likely buy her at least four, was enough to drive her to distraction. But, rather than scowl up at the tender little display taking place, there was something sombre. Almost longing.

Piper landed on the floorboards with a solid thump, the chair beneath her caving to gravities pull.

If a pit could open up and swallow her whole at that precise moment, Piper wouldn’t complain one bit.

“You alright kid?” Nick called from the doorway, doing a poor job of sounding genuine or concerned, laughing far too much for a passable impression of either.

“Yep. Yep.” Piper sighed, deciding that for a moment, right there on the floor was the best place to be. She couldn’t see their faces down here, might as well stay, at least until Nat left.

Speaking of the devil.

“Sisters are weird.” Her little sister explained, mostly to the little boy in Nick’s arms, who looked down at the funny lady on the floor, bewildered.

He nodded slowly in complete agreement.

The comic bound party departed. Piper heard Nora approach, her shiny black heels clicking on the floor. She looked up at her, grimacing but utterly beholden to the glimmer of amusement in her eyes.

“Can I offer you a hand?” Nora asked, canting her head just so.

“Yes please.”

Lithe fingers wound around her hands warmly, the pads softly pressing into the thrumming pulse at her wrists. With a compassionate tug she brought the young woman back up to her feet.

“Thanks Blue. Uh… I mean Nora! Thanks Nora.” Piper muttered dusting herself down, while the other woman bent to right the upturned chair.

“Don’t mention it.” She said, setting the furniture back into position. “You sure you’re not hurt?”

Piper huffed. “Nothing injured but my pride.”

Nora chuckled. “That’s good.”

They sat back down across from one another, Nora folding one ankle just behind the other, the absolute image of effortless elegance, her pretty day dress falling perfectly against her legs.

Piper sighed. She didn’t stand a snowball’s chance in hell did she?

“How are you feeling today?” The older woman asked.

“Hmm?” Piper frowned slightly.

“After what happened yesterday, I was worried.” Nora explained, giving over her undivided attention for the first time since the alleyway. “Are you alright?”

Piper was soundly caught halfway between another excruciating blush, and the same complete bewilderment she’d just inspired in Shaun.

“I… uh…” She coughed lightly into her scarf. “I’m fine, I’m just kinda used to it now, you know?”

It was clear as day that Nora didn’t know, concern only growing across her pretty features. “You shouldn’t have to get used to things like that.” She said. “I could report him, if you wanted? I’m sure if the complaint came from…”

Piper almost upturned the chair a second time, waving her hands desperately, her words following suit. “No! No, no, no, no. no. You…”

Nora leant back a little.

“…You don’t have to do that. I…” Piper awkwardly settled back into her chair, slumping down a little bit further into her scarf. “It’s fine.”

The battered little carriage clock on the bookcase ticked, and for every beat Piper felt her heart sink further into her chest.

“Piper…?”

“Just!” The brittle bone of her patience audibly snapped. She stood, stalked over to the window, clutched her arms tightly around the tremble that she didn’t want Nora to see, and whispered bitterly “Drop it. Please.”

Piper didn’t dare cry around Nat. She could blame it on some remaining hold over of older sibling pride but that wasn’t really the reason. She knew it, Nat knew it.

“God.” She hissed bitterly at herself as the hot streaks cut across her cheeks. She scrubbed at her eyes, rubbing at them in the vain hope they’d just stop. Twice in the same number of days. She was a mess.

She must have had a jagged nail, maybe it was a bit of grit she’d missed when she’d tried to remove the dirt that morning. What ever it was, as she furiously rubbed away her tears, desperate to stop embarrassing herself in front of the other woman, something tore across her right eye.

There was at once too much pain to hold in. A strangled gasp lurched away from her, and she bent over. The floor pulsed, undulating and roiling. Away from her at first, then it rushed back. There was a thump and she was on her knees.

“Piper!”

Nora was at her side, one arm around her shoulder, hand holding her arm in an almost painful grip. She tugged her to lean back, back so she could see her face, see her eyes. Harsh shards of light struck her, and Piper turned her head away, pressing it into the crease of Nora’s collar, momentary relief before the pain spiked again.

“Piper, I need to see what’s happened.” Nora tried to soothe her, stroked a shaking hand across her cheek, gently rocked her back and forth, holding her close.

But she was scared. Piper was so scared.

If she couldn’t see how could she look after Nat? She wouldn’t be able to write. She wouldn’t be able to bring in any money. How the hell could she do her round if she couldn’t see!

She was sobbing now, clutching Nora’s dress, shaking so damn much. It hurt so damn much.

“Oh darling. I need you to be really brave now.” Nora’s voice was taught and trembling. “Sweet girl. You’re already so brave, I know it hurts. I promise I won’t touch it. But we need to find out what happened. Please let me see.”

Her hand was so careful, using just her fingertips to tilt her chin back. She was so kind. She murmured small comforts to her the entire time, sweet, lovely words. And when Piper whimpered, when the sharp light sent needles to stab at the throbbing pain, Nora let her hide her face in her collar again.

“We need to get you to a Doctor.” She explained, attempting to help Piper stand.

The floor melted away as soon as Piper’s knees left the wooden boards, and if it weren’t for the sure grip around her shoulders, she would have followed it.

Nora sat her in a chair briefly. She was moving round the office, doing something at Nick’s desk, moving out to the other room then back again. Piper kept her right eye shut, her left blurred by her tears. All she could see were fuzzy shapes and shadows.

* * *

“She’ll need to have someone administer these twice a day.” The Doctor said, pushing the small bottle of fluid into Nora’s hands.

She nodded.

“And she’ll need to avoid any unsanitary environments for a while.” There was a clear note of reprimand in his voice as he glanced over to the silent young woman. “Any contaminates could manifest into infection. If that happens, she _will_ lose her sight in her right eye.”

“I understand.” Nora said, tucking the tiny bottle into her pocket.

The doctor harrumphed at that. “Make sure _she_ understands that as well. She’s lucky to have not done permanent damage.”

The young woman’s ears were bright red, her shoulders hunched up high, as she stared down at the floor.

“Bring her back here Monday. We’ll need to check the cornea for any signs of infection.” With that the Doctor walked away, off towards his next victim, already affixing his impressive glower to his dour face.

Nora huffed in grim amusement, watching for a moment as the Doctor began to interrogate the next patient in the waiting room. Good physician, terrible bedside manner. She walked over to were Piper was sat, tattered red trench-coat bright against the beige plastic cushion of the hospital chair. Crouching down to meet her bleary gaze, Nora lay a tender hand on her knee.

“Hey.” She said gently, rubbing her thumb over the worn-down rip in the fabric.

“Hey.” Piper whispered back, meeting her gaze with puffing bloodshot eyes, shiny and wet from tears and the drops the Doctor had administered.

Nora had guessed what the Doctor would say. It wasn’t difficult to see the smudges of ink on the younger woman’s fingers, the greasy streaks in her hair, the gaunt hollow defined in horrible clarity with the mud from the Salem church yard. No, Nora had guessed, and she’d already used the hospital’s phone to call Nick, while Piper was with the Doctor.

Nick had agreed.

Nat could stay with him for a few days, while Piper came home with her.

“Let’s get you out of here.”

The going was slow. The injury to her eye made Piper incredibly unsteady on her feet. She stumbled every few steps and had to lean heavily on Nora’s arm for support. By the time they reached the Monorail station the younger woman was exhausted. Nick was waiting for them there with Shaun and Mr Bear. Nat was back at the office, neck deep in a new comic.

“She thinks you’re chasing down a story in Lexington for a few days.” Nick explained to Piper as he handed Shaun, and his right-hand-bear, over to Nora. “She said don’t forget to get more milk.”

It got a weak chuckle out of Piper, but her face was grey, her legs shaky as she held on tight to the back of a bench. “Typical.”

Shaun watched Piper carefully as they loaded her into the compartment. The Metro was almost empty now. Mid-afternoon was the perfect time to travel it seemed. Everyone who wanted into the city was already there, and it was far too early to head home. Well, for most folks.

They had their choice of the seats, much to Shaun’s amazement. Even Nora had to admit she couldn’t recall it ever being this quiet before. They set Piper into a seat nearest the window, Shaun dutifully watching over her as she seemed to fall into a light doze.

“Thank you, Nick.” Nora said quietly, keeping half an eye on her curious little boy as he tentatively crept closer to the sleeping woman.

“Don’t mention it sweetheart. You give me a call once you’re back home safe.” He gave her a solid hug, lingering a moment. “She was right about those Doctors.” He said, keeping his voice barely above a breath. “They disappeared from the records three years ago.”

“You think it’s connected?” Nora murmured back.

“Not sure.”

The shrill voice of the automated conductor called a speedy halt to the exchange, chasing the private detective from the train before he found himself joining their party.

“I’ll talk to you all later.” He called through the window, making Piper stir momentarily from her light slumber.

Shaun waved from Nora’s lap as the Monorail slid its way out of the station, only stopping when the last of the platform disappeared from view.

With no more distractions he settled himself down into his mother’s arms, hugging Mr Bear tightly to his chest, and got to the incredibly serious business of staring at the sleeping woman sat beside them.

They passed over the river, past the boats and bridges, and Shaun stayed fixated on Piper.

“Mummy?” He asked quietly as they passed under the junction near Arlington.

“What is it sweety?” Nora replied tucking a few strands of hair away from his face, keeping her own voice soft so as not to disturb Piper, who’d managed to drift back to sleep.

Shaun considered his next question with care, petting Mr Bear for reassurance. “Are we going to make her better?”

Nora smiled and kissed his crown. “We’re going to look after her for a few days.”

The little boy nodded. “Is she sick?”

“Piper’s just a little poorly. She hurt her eye.” She explained patiently, watching with amusement as her son turned his teddy bear around to examine his big glass eyes closely.

Assuring himself, and his fluffy companion, that the condition wasn’t contagious, he looked back at Piper. “We’ll look after her.” He agreed, nodding again, confirming it with a solemn promise.

Nora simply smiled.


	8. Cycles

Ophelia had always told her not to live too close to work.

‘Leave it at the office’ she’d said.

Curie had listened, technically her little apartment was miles away from the Hospital. Miles away from any hospital actually. Only a street away from a pharmacy though. A very narrow, very crowded little street, one that seemed to get thinner by the day.

That was the problem with a small town, everyone knew what you were, what you did. Folks knew Curie Collins was a doctor. They knew she worked in a Hospital. Worse thing was they also knew she couldn’t bear to turn them away.

There was a little back room in the pharmacy. Barely a storage closet. There were two sturdy if uncomfortable chairs, a table beside one, and a shade-less lamp. It made a poor patient room, but Curie was meticulous, brilliant, and dedicated to anyone in need who walked through the door. So, the ‘doctor’s box’ worked.

She’d always trained to be a doctor first, the pathology side had crept in during her final year at university, before her residency. Curiosity got the better of her, as it always did, and there she had remained. Ophelia had taken her under her wing, a true mother hen in many ways, especially after her father had passed.

They’d been friends apparently, Ophelia and her father, they’d done some work in the field of vaccinations and pathogens, though Curie hadn’t ether been able to get either to give her much detail on the subject.

Ophelia hadn’t turned up at work that day.

As much as Curie wanted to believe that everything was fine, that her friend and colleague was just fixating on a rogue discrepancy, she couldn’t get the contents of the envelope out of her mind. It was only Saturday, she wasn’t supposed to do anything with the photographs till Tuesday. Just keep them safe until Ophelia contacted her. Or she didn’t.

As she sat in the poorly cushioned chair in the ‘doctor’s box’, she couldn’t help but feel the edges beneath her fingers. The crisp white border around those awful images. Half a dozen large print photographs, everyone of them a horror story.

A ratt-tat-tat upon the warped glass window of the door roused her from her memories. Curie sat straight and smiled warmly at the young man who walked through the door.

“Monsieur Garvey!” She greeted him with a steady handshake. “How wonderful to see you again.”

Preston Garvey, Officer Preston Garvey as of a few weeks ago, held his cap to his chest, his bright smile marred by the trouble he’d come to deliver to her. “Hey Doc.” He said. “Sorry to come and bother you like this.”

“It is never a bother to see someone in need.” She replied, sitting back down in her chair, quickly looking him over for any signs of injury or ailment. There was nothing. Not a bruise, or wince, cut, scrape, he stood an image of perfect health. And yet he still stood weighed down with a heavy burden.

“It’s not me ma’am.” Preston confirmed, making no move at all towards the patients chair. “Captain Hollis asked me to come fetch you. There’s a man at the Station, says there’s something wrong with his son.”

Curie allowed herself a little frown as she gathered her things. “Of course, the child is there I take it?”

“Yes ma’am. He looks… well he looks real bad. His mom’s frantic.”

She didn’t have much in the way of a doctor’s bag. It was one of the handy things about operating with the pharmacy. If a patient needed medicine, or if she needed supplies like dressings and bandages, they need only step out the door.

As they went out into the main store, Curie made a quick stop by counter where Mr Long was flicking through a copy of the latest Massachusetts Surgical Journal. He smiled up at her, closing the magazine and turning it so that she could see the cover.

‘Scars are cool!’ It read, a little boy proudly displaying an arm criss-crossed with band aids for two unimpressed peers.

“Reminds me of Kyle.” Mr Long chuckled fondly, putting the editorial aside after Curie nodded. “Something wrong at the lockup?”

She glanced back to Preston who lingered anxiously by the door, his focus flitting back and forth from them to the street outside. “Hopefully nothing serious, but I may be gone for quite a while. If anyone else comes by could you note down their details?”

Mr Long was nodding long before she’d finished. “Of course. Don’t worry about things here. Did you need anything from the shop?”

They gathered between them a few stimpacks, a small selection of dressings, and a handful of more specialised medications. Mr Long threw in a small chocolate bar once Curie let slip the prospective patient was a child.

“Kids sometimes need a little pick me up, especially when they’re poorly.” He explained with a shrug and a grin.

Curie thanked him, sent her love to his wife and son, then followed the practically hopping Preston out into Quincy.

The afternoon was warm and bright, the sky a brilliant depthless blue. Around them the town was plugging along its merry way, folks enjoying the lazy autumn day, chatting at corners and from open windows, gossiping about this and that.

The slight fog of much excitement and little sleep was starting to creep up on Curie, and as they walked she found her steps drifted on the slight breeze, her smile easy and soothed. She almost walked past the Station, stopped only by the pleading of Preston to hurry on inside.

The entranceway was quiet, no one waiting for their arrival, the front desk unoccupied. Preston stared at the scene for a moment, a deep from creasing his face. Cleary someone was meant to be there.

“Wait here a second Doc.” He said, glancing towards the back, through the open door that lead to the offices and upper level. “I’ll see where everyone’s gone.”

Curie settled herself on the low black couch, listening to Preston’s footsteps as he delved deeper into the Station. She settled the heavy bag of supplies beside her, glancing across to the coffee table, leaning across to leaf through the various dogeared magazines.

The wait was far shorter than she expected, but when she looked up from her crumpled copy of Tesla Science, it wasn’t Preston who’d come to fetch her.

“You waiting for someone Miss?” The unknown officer said, half smoked cigarette in his hand, a copy of Live and Love under his arm.

While she didn’t know every member of the Quincy PD, she did know most. Came from cleaning up the minor scrapes and bruises small town police were all too frequent victims of. Curie didn’t recognise this man, perhaps he was a new transfer.

She didn’t have chance to reply. The thud of heavy boots heralded the re-emergence of Preston, trailing behind the unmistakable patriarch of the Station. The indomitable, unshakable Captain Hollis.

“Clint!” He yelled as soon as he rounded into the entrance room. “You’d better have a damn good reason why there was no one manning the front desk a moment ago.”

The Officer stood in front of Curie paled, hastily dropping the magazine onto the table between them, attempting to hide his cigarette behind his back as he turned to face his superior.

“Well I was just taking a look at the street outside sir. Wanted to check up on a ruckus I just heard at the corner.”

Curie kept her lips tightly pressed together, she didn’t need to involve herself in this, one way or the other.

“Is that right?” Hollis said dangerously, marching up into the face of the truant officer, eyes bright and expectant. “You must think I’m a…”

The Captain spotted Curie. “Ah good evening Miss Collins.”

“Good evening Capitaine Hollis.” Curie smiled, putting the magazine she had been flicking through down on top of the well-thumbed copy of Live and Love as she stood. “I believe there is a child in need of some attention, no?”

The Captain glowered at Clint for half a second more, before he straightened himself up, nodded to Curie and started back towards the rear of the station. “They’re up in my office, right this way.”

As she followed she caught the slightest glimmer of pain in Clint’s eyes. Only when she was about to ascend the first step of the stairs did she realise that the man was still holding the lit cigarette behind his back. No doubt it was burning pretty low by now.

She heard the murmurs of distress long before they reached the room. Plaintive meagre whimpers, the kind that effortlessly tore at the heart of even the hardest of cynics. Curie realised grimly that the little boy beyond was well beyond the comforts of chocolate bars.

Hollis lay a hand on the door, but did not open it. He waited for Curie to be right beside him before he spoke. “If this is infectious Doc I need you to tell me right away. The less folks this thing spreads to the better in the long run. The parents don’t reckon it is since neither of them are sick, but I’m not so sure they’re thinking all that clearly right now.”

He was letting her have an out. In his own way. Curie was certain if she turned around and walked back out the station right now Hollis would not hold it against her. But first and foremost, she was a doctor, medical or otherwise, and she had a job to do.

“I understand.” She said under her breath staring at the frosted glass and the shapes beyond, one furiously moving back at forth, another quite still. “I will do what I must.”

Assured, Hollis twisted the handle and pushed open the door, walking in without further questions.

Curie entered slowly, making a thousand tiny observations with every step as she took in the scene before her.

The pacing figure had been the father. A slightly shorter man than most, his face pinched, eyes dark and darting between herself and the captain. The still figure was the mother. Most of what Curie was able to see of her was largely overshadowed by the figure in her lap.

The patient. A little boy, no more that six or seven. Languid and listless in his mothers arms, his limbs rolling near lifeless as she rocked him, his head lolling limply against her shoulder. Curie placed her bag down carefully on the floor, kneeling before the seated mother and son.

Hollis was quietly explaining something to the father, but Curie didn’t catch what.

The mother looked up at her, eyes swollen from tears, but run dry. A silent plead passed between them, one that Curie could not reassure. Tentatively she reached out to the boy, schooling her hands to remain steady as she lifted the thick lay of his fringe from his forehead.

It took everything she had within her to keep herself still. She’d seen this before.

“Capitaine” she said, standing on legs that felt like jelly beneath her. “I need to make a phone call.”

* * *

Piper was awoken by a tiny hand on her knee. She drew her eyes open sluggishly, a little lance of pain making her wince at the soften light of the neatly appointed living room.

Something beside her squeaked.

Squinting, trying to distinguish shape from smudge she followed the noise to find two familiar wide blue eyes staring back in quiet horror.

“Blue?” She murmured, blinking in attempt to clear something of the filtered haze.

She was met with silence.

Something wet and shockingly cold was lightly pressed onto the back of her of her hand, making her jump a little. She attempted to look down, through the sickening swim of the nausea she caught the contorted shape of a bottle. The fury of her confusion seemed to steadily settle after a few seconds, enough for her to confirm that yes it was indeed a bottle.

A bottle of ice cold Nuka Cola, bright red label glistening and bright. She took it shakily, her fingers failing a few times to close around the thing, seeming to pass straight through the glass, or bump against it.

Once she managed to grasp it she looked up again, to the person still lightly holding the bottle. Shaun, wide eyed, terrified, but a little pout of determination keeping him routed to the spot.

“Thanks kiddo.” She murmured, trying out a smile, though the simple gesture seemed heavy on her cheeks.

The little boy nodded vigorously, froze for a few long seconds, then turned sharply and ran from the room.

Piper watched him go, a little hurt, but accepting that, just as Nora had said, it would just take him a little while to get used to her. She looked down at the little peace offering fondly. Then bit back a groan.

Real lovely gift, downright decent of the kid, but it wasn’t much more than an ice pack to her with the cap still securely in place.

There was the sound of a key in front door just behind her, followed by a sudden stream of harsh golden sunlight. Piper managed to press her eyes shut and avoid the worst of the jolting pain, but couldn’t supress the grimace from twisting her face. Luckily Nora didn’t linger, closing the door as quickly as she opened it, plunging the room once more into its soft synthetic twilight.

“Sorry,” She said in a somewhat hushed voice, remaining where she was for a moment, looking down at piper from her place behind the couch. “I’ll make sure to use the side door next time.”

She was carrying shopping bags from the sound of it, the crinkle of the plastic traveling with her as she walked to the open kitchen. Piper waited a few seconds before she dared to open her eyes again, the throb of pain dulling to a steady ache as Nora unpacked.

“Did you manage to get any sleep?” She asked a while later, coming to sit next to Piper, prising the clammy bottle from her hands and removing the cap with a shiny silver bottle opener.

Piper thanked her with what she hoped was the sincerest of smiles. “Some.” She replied, taking a long sip from the still chilled bottle. “Shaun brought me this just before you got back.”

Nora seemed surprised. “Well Miss Wright, I believe you have just joined an extremely exclusive club.” There was certainly some teasing in her voice, but the genuine astonishment could not be denied. “He really doesn’t normally approach that many people on his own.”

“I’m honoured then.” And Piper meant it, looking down at the precious gift in her hand.

There was dirt and ink under her nails, a little plume of it seeped into the condensation on the glass. Hot, prickling shame crackled silently across her cheeks.

“I’ll pay you back.” Piper said quietly, staring at the stain. “The doctor’s bill can’t have been cheap. It’ll take me a while, but I’ll sort it out.” She looked down at her tattered clothes, picked out in dirt, printing ink, and a few spatters of rust.

“Piper.” Nora said, laying a hand on the back of the couch, letting the other rest upon the pristine patterns of her day dress, the pleats cutting perfect lines across her lap. “If you want to pay me back then I won’t stop you, but please, don’t feel like you have to.”

“You always on this good behaviour?” She didn’t mean it to sound bitter. Hell, she wasn’t really sure how she wanted it to sound. She was grateful, she really was.

It was just that, eventually, gratitude started to feel expected. When something was expected of her, she felt obligated. When she felt obligated, she felt trapped. When she felt trapped, she usually ran.

“I try to be.”

Piper looked at her. Nora’s eyes were distant. “’Trying’ doesn’t usually involve bringing in strays to you home, Blue.”

She laughed a little, tilting her head to run her fingers through her soft dark, locks. “Guess not.”

“Why?” Piper asked. “Why are you helping me like this?” She leant in, narrowing her focus. There had to be a reason, there was always a reason. No folks were just this generous. Even the best of intentions had an angle to them. Writing some past mistake, building up good reputations, gaining trust. There was always something.

Nora lifted her deep blue eyes to Piper, wide, open, and honest. Her fingers still woven through her hair, twisting into a tumble over her left shoulder.

“Because I like you Piper.”

Years in the courtroom made her a difficult read. That was what Piper told herself. She couldn’t find a shred of anything in her expression. No twitch, no hidden smile, no hardness to her eyes, or edge to her voice. Just open honesty.

“You expected something else?” Nora asked, letting her hair slide from between her fingertips, a slow careful cascade. “I like you Piper. I want to help you.”

She hadn’t a clue what to do with the admission. Not a single thought would move through her mind but the constant jittering cycle of three disbelieving words.

_She likes me._

_She likes me._

_She likes me._

“Ms Nora? The hedges are trimmed, and the geraniums are pruned to perfection. Shall I get started on dinner?”

Piper blinked hard, trying to draw herself away from the distracting cycle in her mind. The Mr Handy was talking to Nora about dinner and further arrangements for the evening. Shaun had come in to show his mother a picture in the new book Nick had brought him earlier. But Piper was stuck in that loop, staring at the woman beside her.

_She likes me._


	9. Too Fast

_“You’re sure? I mean, you’re absolutely certain it’s the same infection?”_

_“There’s no doubt in my mind. It’s unmistakable. The little boy is wracked with it. There’s only so much I can do here. I need to get him to a hospital…”_

_“No. Absolutely not.”_

_“He will die. He can’t breathe. I don’t have the equipment to stabilise him.”_

_“You take him into a clinic he’ll die within the hour.”_

_“What are you…?”_

_“It won’t be the disease that kills him Curie.”_

_“…You’re serious? Ophelia this is madness! What proof do you have that the previous patients… that any of what you’re saying is true?”_

_“…”_

_“…”_

_“I can’t tell you like this. This might be… I don’t know if the phone line is secure.”_

_“Mon dieu… if you are playing a joke it became unfunny long ago.”_

_“God… I wish it was sweetheart, I really do.”_

_“Where can we meet? I could come up to…”_

_“No! No. Meet me… Meet me at your fathers.”_

_“…But…”_

_“I know, you’ll figure it out, I know you will. I’ll meet you come noon tomorrow. Give the boy a stimpack, beneath his right clavicle today, his left tomorrow. Make sure you keep him hydrated. Don’t let him or the parents out of your sight. And no matter what happens, don’t let anyone contact the authorities.”_

_“…bein ma ch_ _é_ _ri, s’il te plait prends soin de toi.”_

_“I’ll try sweetheart.”_

He waited for the ladies to disconnect. Held his breath till the line went dead. Then he placed the handset back on the scratched up black base. Cracking open the draw to the desk he fished around till he found a creased up old notepad.

_Meeting,_

_12 noon,_

_Dad’s place,_

_Some French crap_

He tore the page loose, folded it, then slipped it into his breast pocket.

Soon as he got off shift he’d inform the Fixer. Maybe they’d send him a nice bonus for his trouble. Maybe they’d just overlook the blunder with the Linkowski woman. Either way, he lost nothing sending this on to the bigger fish.

Shame though. Seemed like a nice enough person. Accent like that… He let himself have a soft whistle, long and slow. Well it got a man to wondering.

* * *

The suds slipped between her long fingers, gliding down, gathering at the tips, until there was enough to drop into the murky water below. Delicately she reached within the foamy soup, swirling her hand in a slow clockwork motion, watching with satisfaction as blooms of dirt were born, blossomed, then sunk to the bottom of the basin.

Nora glanced over to the first success. Piper’s signature red leather coat hung from the shower curtain rail, looking bright, bold and bull-headed, ready to take on the best and the worst of Boston.

 _Perfect_ , she thought to herself.

Beyond the eggshell blue of the curtain she caught the soft lines of her silhouette. The door was closed. Shaun was in bed, asleep. Codsworth was settled in the utility room, running through a maintenance cycle. It was only the two of them now.

With Piper’s balance so precarious after the injury, there was no way Nora was letting her out of earshot. It took her a serious amount of internal debate to allow her out of her sight. The image of Piper slipping, hitting the tiles, the railing, the floor, of her curled up on the ground, tears streaming from her seeping eyes…

Turning back to the basin she swirled the muddied water with far less satisfaction.

_Should I be concerned?_

She gathered the sodden scarf from its silty suds, marvelling as clear stripes of tealeaf and lime green emerged, fresh and new. The filthy water drained away, no doubt doing wonders to the plumbing. She rinsed the scarf carefully under the cold tap, the last vestiges of grime slipping away. Then, she eased out the excess of water, turned to the chrome plated rail on her right, and gently folded the garment over the metal.

The steady stream of the shower beyond the curtain continued, so Nora set herself down on the chair they’d moved from the utility room, and waited.

_For the record, I wouldn’t exactly disapprove._

Too fast. Sometimes it felt that way, in the moments she let herself really think about just what had happened.

Nate would have laughed at her. He’d only really done so rarely, a few special occasions. Usually they laughed with each other, in joint amusement at a mad world. Right now, he’d laugh at her though.

One dance. That was all it took for them.

God, he was handsome in his uniform. Fresh faced and charming, standing under the yellow glow of the fluorescent lights. Back on leave from training, he’d not even been out to the front at that point. Dragged along by his sergeant’s wife, lovely woman who couldn’t bear to attend a local dance unescorted. Nate was the perfect gentlemen, always was. It was the only way he could have got round her mother.

One dance. Half a dozen cheery swing songs. Laughter and sweetened smiles. A chaste goodbye kiss, made joyful by the promise to meet again the next day.

She’d married him half on the memory of that night alone.

 _‘Too fast by whose yardstick?’_ He’d say. _‘The only opinions who matter are yours, and hers.’_

Being a military man, they’d had the conversation many times. He’d told her to lay a few Roses on his grave, mourn him as much as she’d needed, then let herself survive him. Insufferably good man.

 _‘Roses for your mother.’_ He’d said. _‘Besides I’m a classy guy, Roses are traditional.’_

The water’s stream slowed to a steady drip. Nora stood, retrieved the towel from its rail, unfolded it, and went to stand by the edge of the curtain, shutting her eyes with a melancholy little smile.

“Nora?” Came the meek voice from beyond the eggshell blue fabric.

“Right here Piper.” She replied. “You alright to get out by yourself?”

“Y…Yeah.” There was a short pause, before, much more quietly, “Can you close your eyes?”

Nora softened her smile. “Of course.”

“You have, right? Promise?”

“You have my word.”

She heard the curtain slide back, heard the slow drip from beyond, felt the heat of her skin as Piper drew closer to her.

“I…I don’t think I can stand for long…”

Nora lifted the towel a little, readying her arms to fold it around the younger woman. “It’s alright. I’ll keep you on your feet. I promise I won’t open my eyes till you say it’s okay.”

She felt the wiry weight of Piper’s body enter the circle of her arms, the gentle pressure of her touch as she hesitantly placed her hands upon Nora’s shoulders, the warm water from her fingertips soaking into her blouse. Slowly Nora closed the circle, drawing the soft towel around her, letting the tremble there go unspoken.

“How are you feeling?” She asked, careful not to touch Piper’s skin directly. “Are you dizzy?”

A little beleaguered laugh blew breath gently across her cheeks. “The room is spinning, a little.”

“Alright. Let’s get you sat down then.”

They managed it, with some difficulty. Once Piper was down, she told Nora she could open her eyes again if she wanted.

The room was a wash with a fine mist of steam, previously contained by the shower curtain, now it drifted in the wider world, coiling lightly, sinking to settle on every surface in its reach.

Piper was cherry red, much as Nora expected she would be. She clutched the creamy white towel tightly to her chest, and absolutely refused to meet the older woman’s eyes.

She’d managed to wash her hair, by some miracle. It slicked in inky curls around her neck, laying in undulating tangles atop her crown. Luckily Nora always kept a brush and comb to hand. She retrieved them from the cubby hole where they lived. Every step, she felt the younger woman’s eyes upon her, yet when she turned back Piper was staring at the floor.

“May I?” she asked gently, lowering the brush and comb so Piper could see them without lifting her gaze.

She gave a hasty nod in reply.

Standing behind the chair, passing the brush to Piper for her to keep a hold of for now, Nora hesitated a heartbeat, her fingertips hovering an inch above the black. She drew in a silent breath, drinking it down deeply. Piper had used her shampoo. The familiar scent of it settled her a little.

Teasing out the countless tangles took time. Time counted in the drip from the showerhead. An almost regular rhythm. The warmth of the water, the plush softness of the towel, the play of Nora’s fingers as they danced across her scalp. Piper caught herself missing a few seconds at first, then ten passed before she realised her eyes had closed.

Nora let her doze, using a careful grip on her damp shoulder to steady her. The worst of the tangles were defeated, the rest could wait till the morning. She left the comb on the broad lip of the shower tray, easing the brush from Piper’s sleepy grip and placing it down next to it.

“Darling?” She said on a soft breath, crouching down to capture the younger woman’s hazy gaze. “We need to get you dressed for bed.”

Something like a blush bloomed wearily across Piper’s skin, but exhaustion won out, and she gave a sluggish nod.

Nora had brough her a few things from Concord earlier, a nightgown, underwear, a few toiletries. She towelled her down gently, trying to soak the worst of the dampness from her hair, but she didn’t want her getting cold. The nightgown fit her well, much to Nora’s relief, more than that, it actually seemed to suit her.

She left the bathroom much as it was, Codsworth would tidy it while they all slept, and getting Piper to bed was far more important. With a hand around her shoulders she guided her through to her room, settling her on the bed, retreating back to switch off various lights and retrieve a small dry towel. As much as Piper surely needed to sleep, she couldn’t do so with wet hair.

With little coaxing, she got the younger woman to lie down, her head resting upon the towel which Nora had laid across her lap. Piper murmured something, but she didn’t catch the words. Working carefully so as not to jostle her or pull her about, Nora towelled off the remaining water.

In the soft light of her bedside lamp Nora noticed that Piper’s hair wasn’t quite as black as she’d first thought it to be. It was dark, the inky curls were still as lustrous as before, but amidst it seemed to glimmer hints of tawny bronze. She wondered when the last time Piper herself had seen these colours. The thought made her sombre.

She was almost done when Piper stirred, curling forwards just a moment before her limbs loosened. She rolled her head with visible effort to look up at Nora, and though her lids were heavy, her right eye bloodshot and sore, and though she seemed to forget exactly what had happened to bring her to where she was, Piper smiled, and was beautiful.

“You like me.” She said voice slow in the haze of sleep, tongue thick and uncooperative as it slurred slightly around the words.

Nora smiled fondly down at her, brushing a few stray locks of hair from her forehead. “Is that so hard to believe?” She asked, keeping her own voice soft, lulling the younger woman to remain near her dreams, before she could wake enough to fluster and doubt herself again.

“Kinda is, you know.” Piper yawned, nuzzling a little into Nora’s warmth. “But if anyone could convince me, its you.”

Nora huffed a little, then she hummed, carefully easing the towel out from under Piper’s head, letting it fall lightly to the floor with a muffled little thump. “Once you’re better, I’ll try my best.”

She let her fingers stroke across her warmth of Piper’s cheek, the younger woman turning her head instinctively to follow the tender touch.

“I just need to sort out your eye.” She explained when the younger woman looked up at her again. “Then, you can sleep as long as you want.” She retrieved the miniature bottle from the nightstand, the tiny pipette to administer the fluid incorporated into the cap.

“Will you stay?”

She paused a moment in her awkward one-handed navigation of the screw top. “Do you really want me to?” She asked, studying the younger woman’s expression, searching for the truth.

“Yes.”

Nora felt a gentle sigh drop her shoulders slightly, finding her answer in the earnest glimmer of Piper’s hopeful eyes. “Not tonight.” She said, gathering the correct dose of the fluid in the tiny vial, placing the bottle back on the nightstand. When she looked again at the younger woman, she wasn’t surprised to find the disappointment.

“Hold still.” She said, tentatively touching the upper lid of her right eye, holding it open as she let precisely two drops fall.

Piper blinked a few times between the drops, but she settled with no small amount of relief afterwards. Still the disappointment remained, amidst it a raw and heartfelt hurt.

Nora secured the pipette back into place. Though she should go, undress, clean her teeth, wash her face free from makeup, and settle into the camp bed placed in Shaun’s room, she stayed a little while longer. Piper may only remember it as a dream in the morning, but she did not want to leave her like that.

She gentled her touch as she placed her fingers back upon her cheek. “Ask me again when you’re well, darling.” She said, stroking small circles that the younger woman leaned into. “I promise I’ll say yes.”

A sharp shimmer of something very much aware, and awake flashed across Piper’s opalescent eyes. It made every hair on Nora’s body stand on end, her skin at once ice cold, and unbearably warm. Whatever else that she might forget, whatever else became a dream, Piper would remember that promise, and she’d hold her to it.

* * *

Through the brush of her lashes Piper watched Nora’s shadow upon the wall, the stretch and arc of her spine as she undressed, the long sinuous lines, the fan of her hair as it fell across her shoulder. It wasn’t enough anymore. Dreaming wasn’t enough.

There was never the time after her Dad died. Nat needed her, they both needed her to be focused, hardworking, selfless. No time for anything like this, for the fire beneath her skin, the tingling lit by those fingertips.

Dreams gave her company, solace as she felt her youth slip away to surviving one more day. The fantasy of a hand entwined with her own, of the warmth of an embrace, the slow drag of fingers across skin. When had it ever been enough?

Folks called her pushy, loud, headstrong, trouble. Sure. When it came to somethings she’d been just about all of those. When it came to romance? Hell, she didn’t exactly thrive in the spotlight. The few crushes she’d had a school, the few relationships after, she could never quite lose that voice that whispered doubt.

Nora finished changing. She walked back around the bed, the cream lace hem of her nightdress brushing her lower thigh as she stopped beside her. Her dark hair framing her beautiful cobalt eyes when she bent down and brushed her lips across Piper’s cheek.

“Good night.” She whispered across her ear.

She switched the light off as she left, sinking Piper into a deep but vivid darkness, alight with the image of her. Dreams came, but no, it wasn’t enough anymore.


	10. Small Comforts

It was always freezing by the docks. Damn place never seemed to warm up. Even in the height of summer, the murky swell drained away the sunlight. Of course, ‘gloomy’ suited the feel of the place well really. Made it useful in a way. Certain folks were pulled towards the shadier spots. Meant you could always find someone pushing what you needed.

That didn’t mean it came cheap though. Nothing in the city ever came cheap.

The knuckle bones in her left fist floated, contained only by the bloodied bag of skin. She drove the plunger down on the payment, hissing through her gore caked teeth as the first rush burnt through her brittle veins. She needed to take the edge off before she wrapped her hand. Couldn’t afford to feint near this stretch, not if she wanted all the scrapes to mean anything.

She keel over here, she’d be lucky to ever wake up. No, get a bit wired, pack a few stabs into her system, then she’d clean up the worst and go find something with less needles and a liquid burn to see her through till sunup. Some of the eejits were still stuffing their pockets out front. She could hear them crowing at each other, all jackdaws and vultures, waiting to tear their mates to strips as soon as blood hit the air.

The thrum hummed low in her skull, taking the acid sting from her throat, replacing it with an ache she could put up with. Picking up the clean ish rag that Tommy had fetched for her, she began to tie the remains of her left hand down, biting her cheek to distract her from the grinding of bones.

“I’m tellin ya it’s a gold mine.”

“You say that now, wait till someone like Regalo or one of Montrano’s boys finds you pokin around the North End. Gold mine my ass.”

Damn gobshites couldn’t keep a fecking secret in a sealed room. She let their words pass over her. Never got involved in that sorta business anyhow. Anyone wanted muscle they always hired out the mogs, that way they had spare weight they could cut loose if stuff went to hell. Besides, accent like hers was a death sentence in North End.

“That’s what I’m tellin ya! The families are running at skeleton hands right now.”

“Yeah, that’s what they want you to think. You step foot in their territory you can kiss the entire leg goodbye as it flies past your entrails.”

“Then how’d Georgy get his hands on the stash last week? All those chems? You think he just walked into a shop and bought them? He don’t have three dollars to rub together.”

“You just better hope the hole they bury you in costs less. Otherwise Montrano will send your mother the bill.”

One good thing about the shite that was spewing from their mouths was that it distracted her from what the needle couldn’t numb. All the way through their talk she’d managed to yank the strips tight and tie them firm. She flexed her fingers and found she could move them well enough to hold a nightcap. Good enough.

Stashing her winnings in her deep pockets, yanking the collar of her flaking jacket up high around her ears, she set her jaw to a brutal edge, ducked her head, and headed out into the night.

Course she only got three dozen steps before a shadow stepped out of the alley way, squaring muscled shoulders and a burnt out cigarette at her.

“Hey Rook. Nice fight.”

She glared up at the smug grin on the scarred up second.

“You better be having a fecking good reason for bothering me Frosty.” She stopped, little else she could do without paying for it later. Hell, if she weren’t on such ‘friendly’ terms with the chancer’s boss she’d probably already be arse up in the gutter for the nickname alone.

Whatever it was, must have been worth more than satisfaction of a comeback, because ‘Frosty’ didn’t even blink at the name. “Hancock wants a word. He’d like you to pay him a visit.”

There went her liquor for the evening. New as the Goodneighbours were, no one turned down a summons from a gang boss if they didn’t want to end up at the bottom of Boston harbour. She squinted up at the second, through the swell of a blackeye and the fuzzing of her latest earnings. Whatever the big man wanted, it was probably gonna come with a fresh battering. Maybe not from his crew, but as soon as you started affiliating yourself with a side, you started making enemies on another.

She needed to make sure it was worth it.

“He better be laying out a bloody banquet.” She snorted, fingering the capped chems in her pockets. “This urgent?”

‘Frosty’ smirked. “You wanna risk waiting to find out?” Eager sadism shimmered in the flash of her teeth. Good dog that she was.

Rolling her grey green eyes, she turned on the worn out heel of her boot and pointed herself towards the waterfront, ‘Frosty’ following behind.

* * *

“Mummy?”

Nora drew herself reluctantly from her dreams. Sunlight fell across the pillow and made her squint as soon as she opened her eyes. At least it was morning, she thought, blearily blinking up into the expectant gaze of her son.

She yawned, stretching out her somewhat cramped limbs till she felt her toes and fingers tingle. “What is it sweety?”

The little boy tilted his head, looking down at her from over the top of Mr Bear’s burnished crown. “It’s time to get up.” He said.

Chuckling into her pillow a moment, oh the wisdom of babes, she then turned to squint up at the wall mounted sunshine clock beside the doorway.

08:30

She held back a sigh. Well considering the likelihood of Shaun actually being able to tell the time without assistance, she should be grateful she’d had _this_ much of a lie in. Swinging her legs out from underneath the cosy cocoon of blankets she felt the fresh chill of the morning air against her skin.

Shaun padded over to her, Mr Bear held out to receive his good morning kiss, before he offered up his own cheek for his. Nora tugged him into her arms and held his little body close for a few moments, helpless to the smile that spread across her cheeks as he giggled.

“Pancakes?” She said when he’d wrestled himself and his furry companion free from the tickle monster.

He nodded enthusiastically, running over to the sliding door, pulling it open with customary difficulty before darting down the hallway towards the kitchen, eager to tell Codsworth the news.

Taking a few more moments to enjoy the last remnants of her sleep, Nora began to card her fingers through her hair. Any tangles quickly caved under her ministrations, allowing her mind to wander to the woman waiting in her bed.

The prickling of a blush bloomed across her neck as her thoughts fell back to Piper’s gaze. Sudden, strong, and determined. She’d accepted the challenge she’d found in Nora’s promise. Like it or not, she was ready to follow through.

 _Not until she’s well_.

The determination offered little placation to the thrumming pulse between her breasts, nor to the cooling shiver of sweat upon the back of her hands. It had been quite a while since anyone had incited that sort of reaction from her.

A muffled clatter from the general direction of the kitchen lifted her from her musings, and carried her out into the hallway. Shaun was stood beside the breakfast counter, talking excitedly to the merrily busy robot, the clatter evidently the enthusiastic wielding of a currently spinning frying pan. Chuckling lightly and rolling her eyes at her boys’ antics, Nora glanced over to the doorway beside her. Still closed, though she doubted Piper would remain asleep for long.

The drops would need to be administered soon, so she might as well poke her head in to see how she’d faired. No reply came when she lightly knocked. Perhaps she was still asleep after all? Deciding it was better to assure any creeping anxieties over the matter, Nora slowly slid the door aside, just enough to slip through, and carefully closed it behind her.

After the brightness of the daylight, the gloom was a little difficult to navigate at first. She stood a moment or two, simply letting her eyes adjust, leaning back against the door, not wanting to run the risk of knocking into anything and waking the younger woman.

Steadily, things came into focus.

The morning light filtered through the golden curtains as a deep rich ember glow, lighting every surface it touched with a generous softness. The comforter had been kicked away, rucked and twisted at the base of the bed. Piper lay almost free from it, just her toes lay hidden under it’s folds.

She was still very much asleep. Laid out upon her front, her face turned towards the middle of the bed, dark hair spilling across the pale pillow. Her arms reached out into the empty space beside her, fingers half curled, reaching to touch, but left cold.

Nora moved around to the closet, tucking her hair behind her ear so she could peek at the untroubled peace resting comfortably against the bedding.

She wasn’t prepared to see olive green eyes looking back.

“Morning Blue.” Came a sleepy greeting, sweetened by a soporific smile.

When she caught her breath, Nora whispered back. “Good morning. Did I wake you?”

Dark curls bounced and tumbled as the waking woman shook her head. “No. I was dozing.”

Hesitating a moment, fingers just toughing the cool plastic handle of the closet, Nora found herself wondering what waking might have been like if she had stayed.

The thought of changing was abandoned. Slowly she lowered herself to sit on the edge of the bed, leaning her weight upon the palm she pressed into the mattress between them. “How do you feel? Does it hurt?”

Piper blinked a few times, slowly, as if she were testing the afflicted organ out. “It stings a little.” She admitted, wincing slightly as her lid glided across the surface of the scratch.

A small frown tugged at Nora’s brow, then she shuffled a little further onto the bed. “May I have a look?”

With a nod, Piper pushed herself up to sit, leaning across the quiet divide.

She hoped her fingers were warm as she cupped Piper’s cheek to keep her steady, she hoped the golden light hid the heat that spread across her neck, she hoped that Piper wouldn’t decide to tempt her withering resolve to wait.

Though the eye was still bloodshot, the puffy swelling around it had lessened considerably. If the morning after continued to show such improvement then they had nothing to fear from the Doctor’s check-up. Piper would be able to return to her own home by Wednesday. The thought stirred muddied emotions within Nora.

“It looks much better.” She said, letting her touch fall away, though she remained where she was otherwise, leaning across the cool cotton sheets, Piper almost close enough to meet her halfway.

The light must have been just the right hue to hide a blush, because Nora could not find a trace of one upon the younger woman’s face. Perhaps her slow awakening was holding back her typical reactions, or perhaps it was the light. Or maybe, just maybe, some of the conviction Piper had revealed last night still lingered.

“Mommy, Cods says pancakes are nearly ready.”

Nora mentally shook herself, drawing back.

“Thank you sweety, we’ll be there in a minute.”

The ghost of the same disappointment as she’d seen last night sank into Piper’s eyes, but she smiled. “Pancakes do sound good.” She said, sitting back, brushing her hand through her hair, fingers catching on a few tangles.

“It’s a Sunday tradition.” Nora explained, getting up, opening the closet and retrieving the clothes she’d change into. She took the momentary ambiguity the concealed space allowed her, to grimace, draw in a deep breath, before turning back to Piper. Placing her own things on the far end of the bed she padded across to the small red armchair and picked up the neatly folded clothes she’d left there the night before.

“I got these for you yesterday.” She explained, passing the simple blue jeans and green t-shirt to Piper, their hands brushing lightly in the exchange.

Piper let a breathy little laugh puff past her lips as she looked down at the clothes. “You really are something else, you know that.”

Nora simply smiled. “You going to be alright getting dressed? Your balance was pretty unsteady last night.”

“Yeah.” Finally, Piper’s blush returned. “I’ll be okay, might take me a while but I’ll manage.”

“Well, just call me if you need a hand.” She picked up her own clothes and made for the doorway, her hand on the door, very aware that Piper was watching her closely. “Don’t keep me waiting, Miss Wright.” She whispered below her breath, not waiting to discover if her words had been heard.


	11. Choose your friends wisely

The smoke from his cigarette coiled in the perversely warm air of the cemetery. It was a nice day. Sun was shining, the sky was a depthless brilliant blue, there were birds singing away in the trees, the sound of Sunday traffic was distant. He flicked the core of powdery grey ash from the end of his smoke, before placing it back into the corner of his grimace.

Fine day for a murder.

“Nick!”

Mr Valentine turned from his long, low view over the silent legion of stones, and watched the last few steps of Captain Widmark’s heavy approach. Not a pretty look on the overworked lawman’s face. Nick wondered exactly how much paperwork a gunshot victim equalled these days.

“You can come up now.” Wids grunted, waving off the forensics team as they disappeared towards the entranceway. “No clue why you’d want to see it on a perfectly good Sunday afternoon, but that’s your own damn business.” He didn’t wait for a reply, simply turned on his heel and trudged back up the grassy slope, shoulders hunched high and hostile.

Thinking it better not to leave the offer to expire, Nick quickly followed, stubbing his cigarette out on a scuffed patch of dirt. Names and dates passed by in their chiselled reverence. He didn’t often come down to this side of Quincy. Jenny was buried at Lexington, same place as Nate, perhaps they kept each other company in some small way, he hoped so.

Pretty enough place though. He could see the town itself in the dip of the hill, the white spire of the church poking up to almost prod the overpass. Plenty of greenery before development kicked in, grass and birch trees, a lush undergrowth crowned in fiery gold. There were worse places to die.

Wids came to a stop between two granite sarcophagi, nodding his head towards the cramped divide. Nick could smell the blood before he too got close. When he saw the twisted angle of a leg wedged between the slabs of stone, he closed his eyes a moment, then image already burned into his mind.

“Why’s the stiff still here?” He asked, taking a little time to himself before he looked at it again.

“There was a note.” Wids looked down at the body dispassionately, leaning against the grave closest to him. “Commissioner phoned in once he heard, he says suicide.”

“Hell of a communication network you boys got going now.” Nick muttered, folding his hands into his pockets, crouching down to get a better look at the very prominent patch of blood at the hem of the shirt. No holes in the fabric. He followed the crooked line of the neck, up to where the hair matted into a clump, blood mixed with brain matter. “Who takes the body? Far as I recall Quincy doesn’t have a hospital.”

“Milton are taking it.” Wids said. “They’ve got a morgue down in the basement apparently. The pathologists there will do as much of an ID check as they can on dentals and the like, but it’ll probably be a shallow grave in the end.”

“Depends on who digs it.” Nick said quietly, peering at the single injury closely. “Not that I don’t appreciate it, but why did you call me down here? And why is it your team here? Surely this is Hollis’ patch.”

The scoff that came from the Captain was harsh and reflexive. “Turner thinks the ‘Old-War-Horse’ should have been put out of his misery half a decade ago. He wouldn’t trust Hollis with a lost cat. Whatever the grudge those two have between them is more than my paygrade to care about.”

Nick stood, looking around at the nearby stones. “Turner always was a cantankerous mule.”

“As for why I called you, I wanted the opportunity to have a little chat.”

Pausing, Nick felt his neck prickle. He had his back to Jonathan, half stooped again to read another name on a grave. “Funny place for a chat.” He said, continuing through with his motions, despite not reading a single word. “I’m sure you could have found a nice rundown joint on the dockside if you really wanted.”

“Not if I don’t want it getting around I don’t.”

“That important huh?”

_Kenneth Collins_

_September 30 th 2025 – November 3rd 2072_

_J'ai trouvé mon cœur dans la ville des lumières,_

_Je laisse le plus brillant pour briller dans ma mémoire._

He heard Wids light a cigarette, the hiss of the mechanical flame filling the brief quiet between them. Pulling out his pocket notepad, Nick quickly jotted down the inscription on the headstone, taking great care to note the blood splatter between the letters.

“The two doctors you asked after are dead Nick. Both river jobs, pulled out in 2074 and 2075. Matured soaks. Report said identified by dental alone.” Jonathan took a long drag. “Thought to be suicide in both cases. Not a mark on either, apart from what the fish ate.”

Nick was thankful he’d skipped lunch.

“I’ll say this one Nick,” the Captain continued, brushing a few blades of grass from the sarcophagus he was leant against, “let the dead stay where they’re buried. I can’t order you about anymore, but drop this, before you dig up something that’ll kill you all over again.”

He stood slowly, tucking his notepad away. He turned to his old friend, touched a finger to the brim of his second favourite fedora and smiled. “Thanks for the info Wids.”

“You’re not listening to a word I just said are you?”

Nick walked away without replying, his feet setting off towards the cemeteries metal gates, blindly leading on to the nearest payphone they could find. It was time he told the ladies about his hunch.

* * *

Nora placed the phone down, deeply troubled.

From the back garden she could hear Shaun giggling. He and Codsworth were playing pirate in the sand pit, the Mr Handy preforming his expert impression of a salty sea captain. Piper made some comment to the crew, something about splitting the map between them to stop any chance of betrayal or backstabbing, to which the Captain vehemently began denying anything so impolite. Shaun’s laughter was immediate and adorable.

She looked down at the pad beneath her fingers and read back her own notations, rolling each word over and over in her mind.

_New Client, wants to meet today._

_Young Irish woman, she looks badly beaten, possible domestic abuse?_

_The Shamrock Taphouse, Harborside, 4pm_

_Hadn’t heard about Silva._

_Be cautious_.

Gina fielded the odd call over the weekend. Usually they left things till Monday, but with the last case running them behind on things she’d gone in to pick up some paperwork to finish. A woman had turned up while she was there.

It wasn’t unusual to get cases like this. Clients too nervous to approach in office hours. Waiting to catch one of them when they were sure no one else would notice. It had been Corsino’s mother who’d come for him, the distraught woman had been half ready to take the stand herself but had heard about Nora from a sympathetic police officer, and had come on her knees, begging that they help her save her boy.

This felt wildly different to that.

It had been quite a few months since she’d handled any sort of physical assault charge, a little bit longer since she’d faced a new client outside of her own office. There’d been no chance of the woman coming back the following day. Apparently, when Gina had asked, she’d been firmly assured that it was urgent, that the woman might not be alive to see Monday if the meeting didn’t happen that afternoon.

Nora picked the handset back up, her fingers flowing smoothly between the numbers. It took three rings for Nick’s phone to be picked up, but when it was the detective’s voice did not answer.

“Valentine Residence.”

Nora smiled.

“Hey Nat.”

It took the girl a few seconds to recognise her voice. “Ohhh, Hey Shaun’s mum. You want to talk to Nick?”

“Yes, is he there?”

“Nah. He went out a while ago, said he had to go to Quincy.” A lackadaisy tone of utter boredom laced Nat’s words. “He didn’t say when he’d be back.”

“Ah.” Nora played with the plastic coated cord, chewing her lip as she tried to figure out how risky it was to go it alone.

Another round of piratical hijinks triggered a squeal of laughter from the garden.

“That Shaun?” Nat asked.

Nora chuckled. “Yeah, they’re all playing a game outside. I think your sister’s questioning the captain again.”

“Piper’s there?”

She grimaced as soon as she realised her mistake. Grasping at what Nick had said the previous day she dragged together an explanation. “Yeah. She’s staying with us for a few days. Just until she’s finished in Lexington.” It wasn’t quite a lie, but it didn’t settle the crawling guilt in her stomach. “Did you want to talk to her? I can go get her if you want?”

“Nah. Just tell her to remember the groceries when she gets back.” There was a pause heavy with unsaid words.

Nora knew Nat wanted to say more. Piper had said she was smart, really smart. Perhaps she’d figured out some of what was actually happening.

“Actually,” Nora said, leaning against the wall, turning so she could look through the kitchen window, out into the sunlit garden to the flustered Mr Handy, the pint sized pirate, and the trouble maker. “She did mention wanting to talk to you about something. I’ll get her to phone Nick’s number later.”

Nat’s huff of annoyance fooled neither of them, but Nora let it slide into a fond little smile.

“Sure. Just tell her to stop slacking off.”

The handset clicked back into place after they’d said their goodbyes. Nora quickly tore the page from the notepad beside it, folding the words into a neat little square and slipping it into the right waist pocket of her butterfly blue day dress.

Outside the sun was warm and inviting, and though she was tempted to stay and watch the dysfunctional antics of the good ship sandbox, Nora did not linger.

“I’ve got to go into the city for a few hours.” She explained softly to Piper after brushing her fingertips across the seated woman’s shoulder.

Piper looked up at her, squinting immediately as the bright light caught her eyes. “Do you want me to come with?” She asked, smiling sheepishly as Nora purposefully moved to shade her from the glare.

“No, it should be okay.” She squeezed her shoulder lightly. “Stay and keep these two in line.”

Piper gave her a mock salute, her smirk bright, bold, and beautiful. “Aye, Aye mam!”

“Oh! I told Nat you’d call her later. I had to ask Nick something, but he’s out.”

“Okay. Think I’ll wait till your back for that one. Dunno if I have the brain power to weasel my way around my sister right now. Maybe the two of us will fare better.”

Nora collected her bag and a light summer coat from inside. She kissed Shaun’s cheek, adjusted Codsworth’s pirate hat to sit straight upon his shiny metal body, and after a surprisingly vocal protest from her son about leaving Piper out, stooped down and pressed a light kiss to the younger woman’s cheek too. 

She blushed, but before Nora completely withdrew she whispered “Just don’t keep me waiting, okay?”

* * *

Typically, Nora didn’t spend any great amount of time by the harborside. Very little business for a lawyer to get involved with here. She regretted coming alone the moment she passed from the sight of the Medway centre. Dark alleyways filled with sunken eyes gleaming with desperation jutted out from the main pathways at nearly every angle.

People down here, not working on the ships or in the factories, didn’t make the choice to end up there, they just stumbled one day and woke to find they couldn’t remember their way. She heard footsteps behind her own a few times, but every time the noise seemed to linger long enough to be more than coincidence the footsteps stopped and turned down another alleyway.

The Shamrock was right by the waters edge. A one-story squat building with eight large murky windows pointing out towards the dingy street, beneath a gaudily painted sign bearing it’s three leaved namesake. The doorway was to the right of the frontage, lit from above by a flickering yellow downlight.

It was too early for anyone but the resident regulars, and when Nora stepped into the dark, if somewhat homely gloom, the place was almost empty. The man behind the bar nodded to her as she approached, not hiding the puzzlement from his worn if pleasant face.

“You looking for someone miss?”

Nora glanced about the place again, noting the older men nursing slow pints, the snoring young dockworker slumped over the far table, and not seeing much of anyone else.

“Yes. A young woman.” Nora regurgitated what she could remember of Gina’s description.

It took seconds for steady recognition to dawn in the barman’s eyes.

“Cait?” He said, sounding for all the world that he didn’t believe his own words. “How the hell did she pull you in?”

Before Nora had a chance to reply a solid strong hand appeared at her shoulder, a warm body pressed into her side.

“Got something else to say Patrick? Cause I’m all ears if there’s something ya want to be getting off your chest.” A thick, melodic, brutally raw and undeniably feminine voice challenged the openly shocked man in front of them.

There was a coil wire tight trepidation in the outwardly familiar gesture. Nora could feel the shakes in the fingers, the excessive tug to keep them close together. There was something like whisky on the woman’s breath, still sweet enough to be recent, but beneath that she reeked of blood.

Patrick held up his hands and shrugged, promising that he had absolutely nothing further to add.

“Good.” Said the woman clinging to her side. “Then hand us over a bottle of your best, put it on John’s bill.”

The request was handled without protest, a bottle of amber liquor placed before them, alongside two short glasses. The woman, Cait, pulled Nora along to the darkest corner of the suddenly far emptier room, tucked her into the corner seat, sat directly beside her, then started to pour out two glasses.

“So, you’re Cait?” Nora said slowly, studying the vicious tapestry of injury and abuse that marked every inch of skin.

Dark oiled leather over pale freckled skin. Rust red hair shorn at jagged angles. Flints of sliver mixed with wet moss for eyes, boring into her, daring her to unknown ends.

The redhead placed a glass, with two fingers of liquor, before her. “Yep.” She said, tucking back the contents of her own glass without pause, hissing through blood stained teeth as the liquor burnt its way down. “Reckon you’re not from around here.”

Nora lifted the glass to her lips. A tiny sip was enough to tell her the contents was whiskey, and she was as much a drinker as she’d ever been. Cradling the stuff between her hands she took a good look at her companion. “Not that you’re wrong, but what makes you say that?”

A harsh snort burst out from Cait. She half turned to her, smirked, then let her hard eyes drag up and down Nora’s form. “Well, you’re far too easy on the eyes to be fish food.” She said. “I reckon you’re probably the nicest looking beour these mogs have seen in years.”

She smiled, utterly bemused by the somewhat blunt compliment. Nora had lived in Boston most of her adult life, but her mother had seen to it that her daughter travelled widely as a child.

 _Beour_ an attractive woman, and _mog_ … well she wasn’t that familiar with that one, but judging from the way Cait had said it Nora doubted it was anything complimentary.

“Just my luck that you were pretty.” Cait muttered into her glass and her second kick of whiskey, her eyes never leaving her.

“Why did you want me to meet you here Cait?” Nora asked, noticing the way Patrick behind the bar kept glancing over at them, then the front door.

“You mean besides getting to drink with a gorgeous lass, and make every piss swilling sod for a mile jealous?” The expression was utter rakish grandstanding, all heavy lids and suggestion, and it didn’t seem to be entirely for show, only mostly.

“Yes.” Nora said, a low chill of tension snaking between them, coiling firmly around her ankles, trapping her with the threat of fangs if she shivered too sharply. “Besides all that.”

The door behind the bar clicked as Patrick locked it from the other side.

The room was empty but for the two of them. The street outside quiet.

Cait’s corset creaked as she leant close. “I’d drink that if I were you.” She said, clinking their glasses together, grinning humourlessly when Nora flinched. “You’re sure as hell gonna need it soon as Frosty gets here.”

She tipped the contents of her glass into Nora’s, holding it a moment as the last amber drop fell. There was something like an apology in the short nasal sigh that followed, but it faded quickly as the front door opened, and two entirely remarkable figures walked in.


	12. A direct question

He’d rung Gina as soon as he got to Sanctuary. She’d given all the information she could, sharing his concerns, and had been at the door in ten minutes in order to watch Shaun for the night. Nick declared her a godsend, tussled the kids hair, gave Codsworth a firm nod, then walked out the door, knowing three things.

Nora was alone in the roughest part of the city, meeting a stranger that had enough battle scars to outfit an army.

She’d been missing for four hours.

And Piper was following down the path, and nothing he could say would convince her to stay behind.

“You know, when she sees _you_ walking around the docks she’s gonna skin _me_ alive.” Nick quipped as they jumped in the taxi. He gave the driver the address of the Harbourmaster Hotel, then sat back, waving to the small figure in the front room.

The cab pulled away, Sanctuary quickly disappearing, Concord and Lexington emerging as they crested the peak of the hill, the distant twinkle of Boston shimmering faintly beyond.

“So long as she’s safe, she can flay who she likes.” Piper muttered, knuckles knotted in her lap, the freshly cleaned red of her trench-coat sanguine in the fading light.

Nick wondered, in the thick silence that followed, whether this was the time to have his own little chat with the young woman. He’d told Nora the truth. He quite liked the thought of them. Squaring it up, looking at the people they were, there was allot pretty damn near perfect about the partnership.

Still, he’d always thought himself a cautious man. Something so seemingly simple, it felt fragile. Nora felt more settled with taking things slow, letting everything develop in its own time. She was a nurturer in that way. It was how he’d known she’d always make a good mother. She liked to help things grow.

Piper was passionate fury, with a heart too big to not care about everyone she met. She went after what she cared about. Chased down a lead through miles of apathy, every bit as fierce as when she’d started. Unfortunately, that kind of fire tended to get people burnt.

The wide expanse of Cambridge loomed ahead them, before swallowing the silent cab whole, their digestion taking them past campus and colleges, street lights casting brittle shadows across their faces.

“How far are you in?” Nick asked, as CIT blurred beside them.

Her scowl was weak. All energy was funnelled towards worry, not much left over for ambiguity. “Into what Nick?”

Angling his chin to study what followed with the best corner of his eye, he said, “How much do you love her already?”

No need to say which _her_. Only one woman on either of there minds right now.

It was difficult to tell just how hotly Piper’s face burned in the sporadic streetlight. All at once she tightened her entire body, coiled back into her seat, starring at him, lips parted with a thousand half formed questions.

“What the hell Nick!?” she hissed through clicking teeth. “What kind of question is that!?”

The cabby gave a quiet snort. “Seems like a pretty direct one, you ask me.”

The young woman rounded on him in a flash. “Well he didn’t.” She snapped.

Nick raised an expectant brow. “The man’s right Piper. Simple enough question.”

The sheer incredulity expressed in her open-mouthed scowl, though stirring, simply washed as ineffectually around him as a gentle tide. He sat back, and waited quite comfortably.

After a few mouthfuls of wordless ire, Piper sprang wholesale into a pitched attack. “I’ve known her three days! THREE DAYS! Who the hell brings up ‘love’ after three damn days! What kind of idiot would fall in love with someone after three days!?”

Carefully keeping an expert hand on the worn-down wheel, the cabby coughed his way scratchily back into the conversation. “Awful close minded way of thinking, if you don’t mind me saying mam.”

Nick admired the man’s bravery, if not the choice of words.

Piper, it seemed, cared for neither. “Oh, you better have a good explanation for that statement.” She growled, actually beginning to roll up the cuffs of her coat.

How much of a tussle she expected to be able to start from the backseat Nick didn’t know, but he doubted whether Piper really cared about trivialities just then.

“Well,” the cabby began, conveniently stopping beneath a red light as a steady stream of late-night city goers filtered out in front of them. “How is it you got from ‘How much do you love her already?’ to ‘Are you in love with her?’?”

In a singular moment of wide eyed astonishment, the utter stranger managed to close down all response.

“There are more that two ways to feel about someone.” The cabby continued. “Folks aren’t switches, you know. Got as many kinds of loves as you’ve got people to feel them.”

The light changed, the cab turned onto the bridge, and Piper looked to Nick, utterly bewildered.

When they got to the Harbormaster Nick slipped the man $75 and wished him the best of what remained of his shift.

The cabby smirked, nodded towards Piper, who’d wandered a little way off to stare at the hotels fountain, and said, “Reckon she’s got it pretty bad you, ask me.”

Nick smirked back. “Reckon your right.”

The stunned silence lasted all of about ten minutes after they’d left the main street. Nick was impressed. It took a heck of allot to keep Piper that quiet.

“Why’d you ask me that anyway?” She mumbled, tucking her head down into the stiff fold of her collar, pressing her nose into her scarf and the scent of soap that lingered there, privately picturing the elegant fingers that had washed it.

“Just getting a feel for where you two are at.” Nick replied, thrusting his hands deep into his pockets as they passed the first of the alleyways. Squinting into the murky gloom he didn’t recognise a mug he could sweettalk, so he moved them on.

“You asked her?”

Another few streets up the waterfront and the Shamrock would peer out. That was probably the best place to start. Would be handy to catch a few folks on the way though. Nick doubted anyone could miss the ‘avenging angel of the people’ walking right past the usual squalor.

“Nick,” Piper pleaded, tugging at his arm. “Did you ask her?”

Nick frowned, entirely for show. “Ask her what?”

Piper mumbled a string of curses into her scarf before rushing at bullet speed through, “Did-you-ask-her-whether-she-liked-me?”

Despite the press of the gloom, and the circumstance they trawled through, Nick couldn’t hold back a deep throaty chuckle.

He received an ineffectual right jab to the arm from the woman glaring daggers into his mirth, her fist clenched in a white knuckle grip.

“I did ask her, in a round about way.”

Piper leaned forwards.

“And?” She pressed when he let the silence drag.

“Miss Wright. You of all people should understand that confidentiality is the bedrock of my business.”

Had it been a friendlier neighbourhood, Piper would have tossed him off the dock side, watching with great satisfaction as he flailed in the sludge. As it was she fetched out her notebook from its place in her pocket, flipped to a clean page, and scribbled a long observation down.

She turned it to him when she’d finished, holding it up long enough for him to read, then snapping the book shut.

Nick pursed his lips, a little shudder of nervous energy ricocheting around his rib cage as they walked the rest of the way to the Shamrock in silence.

Maybe he’d taken that a little too far.

* * *

The place was buzzing, in a Sunday blues kinda way. There were half a dozen folks clutched around low tables, nursing pints of something the chalkboard called ‘Craft Ales’. Piper propped her elbows up on the bar and did her best to ignore the tacky surface, glaring at anyone and everything that dared come near.

Nick was talking to the owner, man named Patrick Merryweather, in the little hallway beyond the propped door, not wanting to be overheard, or so he claimed. That left Piper out front, studying the potential witnesses, snarling at any who tried their luck at an approach.

She’d never been one for drink. Not this kind anyway. Sure, at college she’d tried a few glasses of the usual student fare. It was either paint stripper or dishwater the colour of incontinence. Alcohol was good for other folks. She much preferred a clear head.

Absent from her surroundings a heartbeat, she wondered whether Nora drank. She could imagine her with a crystal glass of some golden champagne, or maybe a ruby red wine, reclining elegantly in the suggestion of an evening gown. Shimmering satin and seduction in an effortless simmering smile.

God, she had it bad.

_‘Don’t keep me waiting, Miss Wright.’_

Piper groaned quietly, pressing her forehead into her hands, remembering only at the last second, not to go anywhere near her right eye. How much _did_ she love her already?

Enough to risk losing an eye apparently.

It was different back at Sanctuary. Nora’s home was a cocoon of domesticity and Sunday pancakes. Whispered promises atop the gentle caress of those long elegant fingers upon her cheek. Of sunlight, laughter, and so much potential of something bright and new.

Back in Boston, in a bust up bar stinking of sweat, beer, and the creeping dread of disaster, the tangle of fear in her chest was impossible to separate.

The door creaked as Nick and Mr Merryweather walked out. Nick didn’t stop, passing Piper without a glance, the glimpse she caught of his expression opening up the yawning pit of dread they’d been skirting since leaving Shaun. She caught his cuff on the street outside, fighting back the nausea and spin of the slicked stones, urging him to pause a moment while she sorted out what should be up, and what should be down.

Could be the sudden exertion of the rush to catch up, could be the dread. But whatever it was that triggered it, her balance was gone with a vengeance.

Nick’s shoulders cut against the spill of the stuttering streetlights. As soon as she caught her breath he started off again, heading in the direction of the churning waters.

“What’d he say?” Piper panted, jogging to catch him up, forced against her better impulses to hold onto his arm or face falling into the gutter.

“She was met by a runner for one of the gangs.” Nick’s voice was clipped hard, shards of flint splintering between his teeth. “Stayed for a while till two more folks turned up. Second and third for the latest thugs on the dockside. Gang called the Goodneighbours.”

He turned sharply left, taking them up towards North Boston and the peaking pinnacle of the Customs House.

“They took her?” Piper pressed, trying to keep her legs from crumpling.

“Yeah. Apparently, their boss wanted to have a ‘little chat’.”

Spray from the sea buffeted them sideways, a storm out in the darkness building its rumbling quake, ready to roll over the city. Nick shielded her silently from the worst of it, and Piper hid her face in his shoulder. No doubt the sludge below would count as a contaminant in the doctor’s eyes.

Seeming to realise the same thing Nick stopped and turned to her, his back to the roiling waves.

“You should get back to Sanctuary.” He said, holding her up by the shoulders. “This isn’t gonna be a cakewalk kid.”

Half tempted to still push him into the waves, Piper settled for a searing scowl. “Like hell. I’m coming. End of.”

Her scowl was returned, the hands on her shoulders gripped hard, something like fear flashed beneath the fury in Nick’s eyes.

“She’s gonna skin the pair of us.”


	13. Slow Tide

Long wharf was spotless. A perfect island of upstanding ice cream parlours, hot dog joints, and cheery tourism, perched right on the edge of the working man’s dockland. A sentry stood watch, tucked into the hedge of the memorial park next door. A thin streak of torchlight hit a fifth story window on the slumped stack of Victorian warehouse, and their presence was acknowledged.

Close to 10 o’clock, the lapping water at their backs and the ash grey brick work ahead, Nick and Piper were finally gifted entry. Three fellas stacked with corded muscle and holstered sidearms came out the two bolstered doors. They didn’t talk.

Nick submitted at once to a pat down, lifting his hands high, doffing his hat when it was pointed to. Piper stiffened, her skin crawling as meaty hands ran business like across her body. They were both clean, weapons free, and were led swiftly inside.

The place was a warren of rooms. Most that they passed were respectably occupied. Crates of cloth, the lacing of cranks and pistons fit for a factory, paper patterns fanned neatly on a wide table. Seemed that in the day at least the warehouse was in the business of clothing. As they climbed the décor shifted.

Bunks lined up like legions burst from nearly every room on the third floor. Some were occupied, sleeping, or drinking, or cards. Most were empty, the occupants no doubt out on business around the city. Piper tried to keep track, but she lost the thread around sixty.

Their stoic escort took them up to the fourth floor, then pushed them through to a wide open gallery, closing the door behind them.

There were three occupants to the space, gathered around a circular table. Though the seated arrangement was even, clear deference was given to the man in the middle, bedecked in flared redcoat and tricorn. He stood as they approached, and despite the ludicrous nature of his attire, Piper doubted anyone had ever worn it better.

“Nick Valentine walks into our little corner of Boston, and here’s me without any kind of hospitality to offer.” The man was handsome, charisma rolled off him effortlessly, his smile was easy, and in the low light his dark eyes seemed to twinkle.

Shame neither of his guests were much in the mood for being charmed.

“Where is she Hancock?” Nick said, stepping up to stand at the edge of the table.

Piper hung back. The nausea had abated some while they’d waited outside. Now, after all those stairs and corridors, the floor was a soupy swell, and it was just beginning to roil.

Hancock chuckled, lifting his hands to placate, never surrender. “Gonna have to be more specific there. Lot of folks come drifting through our patch. Though I do think we had some pretty little thing stop by earlier, you remember where we sent her Fahrenheit?”

The woman to his left, half shorn head of copper streak hair above frosty grey eyes, smirked. “Dunno boss, last I saw Cait was pretty taken with her. Might be they’re having a little private match somewhere. Wouldn’t be polite to interrupt.”

Nick slammed his hand against the table. “Quit messing us around.” He bit out his jaw grinding crooked into his grimace. “You wouldn’t dare hurt her, so tell me where she is before _I_ forget to be polite.”

Fahrenheit shrugged. “The Rooks not one of ours. She’s just merc meat we bring in to go fetch things. What or who she does outside of that is her business.”

Concern more for the tableware than the man pounding upon it stirred the boss from his amusement. “She’s in the back, tending to some scrapes Cait’s been ignoring.” He nodded towards a door to the side. “The brawlers many things but she ain’t one to force the issue. She hasn’t been touched.”

Swivelling to face the door, Piper’s world lurch out from under her. It was only Nick’s arm that saved her from the floor.

“Your dame shot up?” Hancock asked distantly as Nick carefully lowered Piper to sit down. Might have been the vertigo talking, but she was half convinced there was a small snippet of concern there.

Nick explained as much as was necessary, but his words passed right over her head. All that mattered right then was not throwing up, and what waited through that door.

“There’s a few beds in there,” The woman, Fahrenheit was saying, somewhere above Piper’s head. “She can sleep it off.”

Strong arms hoisted her to her feet and held her up as the height made the floor sway. Nick muttered something nearby. Hancock replied with a joke. Then the door was drawing closer.

They hauled her through as nicely as they could, considering the almost deadweight limp that dragged down her limbs. There was another corridor beyond, lined with more doors, the light on in only one. Fahrenheit pushed it open and helped Nick deposit Piper on a suspiciously clean bed.

The place was a makeshift, if surprisingly well equipped med-bay, fit with all the creature comforts of a small time lab. Nick glanced around, then over to the drawn curtains of the far bed, the quiet murmur of voices beyond.

He opened his mouth, but hesitated, licking his dry lips, his grip on Piper’s arm trembling slightly. “Hey, sweetheart, that you behind there?”

The voices beyond stopped a beat, then the oh so familiar click of black heels tapped upon the floorboards, before the curtain was tugged aside and the most gorgeous sight for sore eyes lawyer in the whole of the greater commonwealth stepped through.

“Nick?” She breathed, lost between elation and confusion, then cobalt gaze taking in the figure on his arm, “Piper!”. All was replaced with concern as Nora rushed over to them, her hands cupping the younger woman’s jaw, focus entirely taken up with examining her eyes.

“Seems the boss was right.” Fahrenheit said from the doorway, crossing her arms over her chest, vaguely looking towards the curtained section. “Not a scratch on her. You off your game Rook?”

A grunt of laughter burst out bitterly from behind the divide.

Nora ignored them, gently pressing her fingertips to the swollen skin around Piper’s eye. She frowned tightly as the other woman winced. “What on earth are you doing here?” She asked her softly, more hurt than accusatory just yet.

Nick replied. “Trust me, I tried. No way short of lashing to something back at your place would’ve stopped her.” He placed a firm hand to his friend’s shoulder. “More to the point, what the hell are _you_ doing here?”

Before Nora could reply the hospital curtain was pulled back again. “Beautiful here was just helping a girl out. Some folks just can’t resist a pretty face.”

Nora sighed into a slight if weary smile. “Nick, Piper, this is Cait.”

Nick flicked the brim of his fedora, Piper eyed the rough location of the woman as best she could.

“Since _you’re_ here, I guess you spoke to Gina?” Nora continued, peering again at Piper, now moving her attention to the rest of her ashen face. “I suppose Cait’s not wrong in some ways. Darling, how many fingers am I holding up?”

While Piper tried to bring her senses to the finer points of counting, Nick turned to Fahrenheit. “So, you laid out a trap for Nora. Why? Why’d you want to bring her here?”

The gang’s second smirked. “That, Bishop, is for the boss to say. So, I think we should head back and ask him, don’t you?”

Nick looked back to the two women on the bed. “You ladies alright her for a spell?”

Nora nodded. “Go. I’ll try and get her eye cleaned up a bit.”

* * *

To nearly everyone but Nora’s surprise, Cait stayed with them, seating herself on the edge of the bed beside Piper’s, and settling herself in to watch.

“So,” She said, as Nora moved over to root through a few of the cabinets, pulling out what she needed and placing it on a shiny metal tray. “This one speak? Or is she the silent type?”

Piper glowered at her. “Yeah, I just don’t fancy wasting my breath that’s all.”

A glimmer of amusement sparkled in the redhead’s smoky green eyes. “That a challenge lass?”

Piper’s fists curled into the blanket beneath her. Seemed like the stability of the bed had allowed something like her normal balance to return, and though her head throbbed like a tight tan drum, and her right eye was digging needles into the beat, she lifted her top lip in a sneer.

“Neither of you are in any state to be taking pieces out of each other.” Nora said, her voice firm and sharp.

It made Piper grimace, ducking her head slightly as shame burnt across her cheeks. Cait in comparison remained utterly unaffected.

“No sense in wasting time on a piss easy fight anyway.” She smiled wickedly at Piper’s outrage, and turned her attention to Nora instead. “So, what you fetching over there anyway?”

She was at the smaller of the two sinks, a glass beaker in her hands. She turned the spotless metal tap and waited till half the vessel was full, before lifting the beaker up to the light and peering closely at the water.

“I need to clean out any grit or debris from Piper’s eye.” Nora said, tipping the contents of the beaker down the drain before filling it a second time from the larger sink. “Best way to do that is with a saline solution.”

“Speak English will you.” Cait quipped, giving a lazy smile when Nora glanced over to her.

The older woman shook her head. “Salt.” She said, repeating her examination of the water from the second sink.

Cait frowned a little. “Won’t that, you know, dry the thing out? Salts what folks use to make meat last longer, and put over chips.”

Satisfied with the second batch it seemed, Nora placed the glass beaker down on the counter. She selected a small paper packet from the metal tray and delicately tipped the contents into the beaker. With a shiny metal spoon she stirred the mixture until it was almost clear.

“Do your tears dry out your eyes?” She asked, tapping the droplets from the spoon, the gentle ring of the glass singing softly around the room. “So long as the salt is well dissolved and its only a tiny amount it’s an excellent way to wash the surface. My husband used to do it all the time.”

“You’re married?” Cait asked as Nora brought the tray over to them.

She watched closely as she placed her supplies down on the metal table at the head of the bed, then gently coaxed Piper to sit up and move a little further down. Nora sat herself behind her, then carefully drew the younger woman back to rest her head in her lap.

“Widowed.” Nora replied, brushing Piper’s hair out of the way with her fingertips. “Three years ago.”

Piper swallowed down a lump as she looked up at the woman’s bleary outline. Strange as it was, it was the first time she’d thought of her as a widow. Somehow the title seemed jarring.

“Try to keep still, alright? Tell me if its painful at all.”

She nodded, then forced herself to relax as best she could.

Working with the utmost care, Nora began by dipping a small cotton swab into the salty mixture. As she drew the tip gently over the folds of Piper’s eye lid Cait looked between the two of them quizzically.

Much as she’d liked to mess with the spikey kid, she had the sense to hold off her comments till the delicate process was done.

* * *

“Thought you said you didn’t have any hospitality to spare.” Nick eyed the swallow glass suspiciously as Hancock’s third poured out the cherrywood liquor.

The man himself shrugged, already sipping smoothly from his share. “What can I say? I roll out the best for my guests.”

It burned just the same as any moonshine, so Nick took only the smallest of sips, pacing the fire in the hopes he could stave off any further generosity. “Now that we’re all pals again.” He croaked, thumping his chest lightly to soothe the sting. “Tell me why you drag ‘the angel of the people’ into your neighbourhood.”

Hancock tipped the brim of his tricorn, placed the thing down like a centrepiece at a banquet, then kicked his patent boots up onto the table, nestling himself down in his chair. “How long has it been Valentine, since you heard the name Amari?”

The room quietened to a low silence as the name settled between the occupants.

“I know her wife.” Nick said slowly.

“Ah, Irma.” Hancock sighed wistfully. “Fine set of pipes on that dame, could give ole Mags a run maybe.” He took a long sip from his glass.

“She disappeared last night.” He said peering over the rim.

Nick sat a little straighter in his chair. “Amari or Irma?”

“Amari.” Fahrenheit said. “She was bringing over some supplies for one of the kids, got snatched somewhere near North End.”

“We found her escort face down in the river this morning.” The boss continued, flicking some imaginary dirt from his coat. “One of our best.”

The gears of Nick’s mind were whirring a mile a minute. “Interesting as that is, what’s Miss Adams got to do with any of it?”

He was expecting a smirk, but something quite different clouded the man’s roguish features, dark, ponderous and angry.

“When we dragged him out of the water there wasn’t a mark on him.” Hancock said looking into his glass a moment, watching the slow swell of the liquor as he rolled his wrist in lazy circles.

He lifted his gaze, and the index finger of his right hand, the digit rising sluggishly through the air.

“Except, a single bullet hole, right here.”

Hancock tapped the smooth skin at the centre of his forehead.


	14. I Believe you Blue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the pause. Been swamped with work deadlines and computer problems over the last week.  
> Postings might be a little sporadic for a while. Bear with me.  
> And thank you so much to everyone whose left comments and kudos.  
> Especially Xanthera, I swear an upload doesn't feel complete until the notification of your comment comes in!

Cait closed the door behind her as she left, and Piper breathed a silent sigh of relief.

Nora chuckled lightly, she stood near the larger of the sinks, rinsing out the glass beaker.

Piper’s smile was reflexive. It seemed like the most natural thing in the world, to smile at the gentle sound of Nora’s beautiful laughter. She ducked her chin down into the fabric of her scarf, closing her eyes for a moment to imagine they were back at Sanctuary Hills.

Shaun was playing pirates with Codsworth outside in the garden, maybe Nat would join in, lead the crew into a coup. No yard nor sandbox would be safe from their voyages. She sat at the table in the kitchen, the Bugle beneath her hands, fingertips halfway through tracing the bold print of her first headline. Nora was at the sink, fetching a glass of water, before she returned to her own spot at the table. Right next to Piper’s. As she sat down, she leant across the small gap between their places, and tenderly brushed her lips across Piper’s cheek, smiling softly into her skin.

The mattress beneath her sank as Nora sat beside her, jolting Piper out of her reverie when she did indeed kiss her cheek.

“How are you feeling now?” She asked, a frown creasing her brow, her hand tucking the dark strands of Piper’s hair behind her ear.

A strangled little burst of laughter hiccupped its way out of Piper. “After _that_?” she muttered to herself.

Nora’s frown softened a little, though it was replaced with worry and sadness, her gaze lingering on the angry red skin around Piper’s eye. It was less prominent now, but it still concerned her greatly.

“I mean this in as nicer way as I can, but, I wish you hadn’t come here Piper.” She said, lifting her fingertips to trace the curve of her cheekbone. She stopped herself just before she touched her skin, her hand sinking heavily to rest between them.

Piper sighed. “And I wish you’d let me know where you were going. Or that you’d at least waited till you could get a hold of Nick.” She worried the scruffy hem of her scarf, twisting her fabric as she kept her gaze lowered to her own lap.

It had hurt to be left behind. Knowing what she did, realising the state of the dockland, and what had happened with her eye, it was clear why Nora hadn’t brought her along. Still, she could have at least told her what was happening. Of course there was no way in hell Piper would have ever let her leave after hearing it.

Nick had joked that nothing short of lashing Piper to the furniture back at the house would have stopped her coming along. Well, Piper was damn sure she could have found someway to keep Nora equally confined if necessary.

The older woman hummed in agreement. “I know. It was foolish of me. I imagine Nick’s going to give me quite the lecture later.”

Piper abandoned her scarf, and reached down for Nora’s hand, threading their fingers together, squeezing firmly for a few moments. She wasn’t good at lectures. Explained half of why Nat was as she was, the other half was all her sister. But she could try.

“You… Please, don’t do this kinda thing alone anymore? I don’t want anything to happen to you. I…” She wetted the roof of her mouth, her tongue large and cumbersomely dry. “I… it would hurt so much if…”

Nora hushed her gently, squeezing her hand back, stroking her thumb over her knuckles in soothing circles. She seemed to think for a moment, the focus of her eyes dancing with a feather touch over Piper’s face.

“Shall we make another deal then?” She asked, her head canted lightly to one side, dark loose curls spilling over her shoulder. “We both agree to avoid any unnecessary risks from here on out?”

“Alright.” Piper nodded.

Then she paused, confused. “Wait. What was our other deal?” She asked, shifting round a little to look more fully at the woman beside her, instantly startled by slow emergence of a wicked little glint that sparkled in her eyes.

“Well,” Nora smiled, slow, soft, a terrible and wonderful warmth running just beneath the surface of her skin. “I suppose, thinking about it we’ve actually made two, haven’t we?”

“We have?” Piper squeaked, her cheeks aflame, her pulse thrumming inside her throat.

“Yes.” Nora hummed. “When you are better, I promised to try my best to convince you just how much I _like_ you, Miss Wright.” She leant a little ways across the small divide between them, voice sweetly soft and lightly breathy, little whispers of warm syllables kissing Piper’s cheeks.

“The second deal? Well, if I recall correctly…”

Piper’s breath hitched, her body tense and tingling. Nora leant closer, her cherry red lips passing by her panic frozen features, settling instead beside the shell of her ear.

“I believe, I promised to say something the next time you asked me to come to bed.” A tiny huff of laughter puffed across Piper’s ear. “Do you remember what it was?”

The prospect of saying a single letter seemed mountainous to Piper in that moment, let alone repeating a whole word. God, this woman. She _knew_! She knew what she was doing to her. Knew exactly what to do to make her mind turn to the simpering silence of some love-struck sycophant.

_Love-struck._

_Love._

“Yes.” Piper said back, answering both waiting voices.

Nora chuckled brightly, drawing back, a playful smirk playing across those ruby lips. The simmering intensity of her cooling to a welcoming warmth, all kindness and apologetic amusement.

“I’m sorry.” She said, though it was utterly clear the truth behind that was questionable. “You are really too easy to fluster.”

Yep. Like a damn fiddle beneath the fingers of a world class musician. She knew exactly what she was doing.

Well, Piper thought, glaring lightly at the seductress with a heart of gold and the most frustratingly effective ability to ‘fluster’ her. Two can play at this game.

The older woman moved to get up from the bed, maybe seeking to retrieve things from the bay where she had been attending to Cait. But Piper pulled her back down, moving to fix her firmly in place, her eyes sharp and glinting.

“Seems only fair we keep things even, _Ms Adams_.” She said, taking pride in the slight but steady blush upon Nora’s cheeks. “Just so you know exactly what you’re getting into. I never forget folks who help me out.”

Nora’s smile turned bemused at the seemingly innocent statement, her blush turning into a quizzical little frown.

Then Piper’s eyes darkened. “I also never forget folks who’ve caused me _trouble_. And I never forget to pay people back, in _full_.”

 _Kiss her_.

Nora’s lips were right there, parted just slightly. Perfectly painted, luxurious, and they could be Piper’s. They could be her’s to seek out, to find every day and lavish, paint with her kisses. _She_ could drive _her_ to distraction for a change. It could be Piper’s turn to fluster her. All she needed to do was shift that little bit forwards, lean over the last of the divide, break that first barrier that held back all the affection she craved.

They had made a deal. Nora said when she was well. Piper prided herself on her promises. She was so tempted to break it.

The door behind them creaked open.

“Now how exactly is that supposed to clean her eye if I might ask?”

Piper sucked in a harsh breath, her mind whirring through all the ways she could make Nick Valentine’s day to day existence as miserable as humanly possible.

Nora sighed deeply, shooting Nick a playful smirk over her shoulder. “Mr Valentine, your timing is impeccable as always.”

Nick held up his hands in mock surrender. “Far be it from me to dictate how _this_ should go…”

Both women snorted, varying levels of disbelief on their mirrored expressions.

“ _But_ ,” Nick continued with a little huff, “there _are_ nicer places than this dive for sure.”

No one could reasonably argue with that, though there was the temptation to try.

“Alright Nick,” Nora said, standing reluctantly from the bed, detangling her hand from Piper’s and walking across to the curtained bay. “Has John finished talking to you?”

It took Nick a minute to register she was talking about Hancock. “Yeah.” He said, fetching Piper up from the bed with a hand under her arm.

Piper promptly and unapologetically stood on his foot.

He gave a muted grunt, contemplated dropping the rookie reporter back down on the bed but Nora drew back the curtain on the bay and the opportunity was lost. He gritted his teeth instead, plastered over his best smile and swiftly passed Piper over to the other woman as soon as she was able to support her.

“What do you think about it?” Nora asked, lifting one of Piper’s arms to hang across her shoulders, whilst she slipped her own one around the younger woman’s waist.

Nick smirked knowingly at the blush that bloomed brightly there after.

“Seems too similar to be a coincidence, that’s for sure. But it’s a hell of a jump in time. If it is all connected why did it take this long for another attack to take place?”

“Uh? Can one of you please fill me in on what the heck you’re talking about?” Piper asked, trying her best to keep pace with Nick as he set off down the low lit corridor. “Kinda feeling a bit left out here.”

“What?” Nick said over his shoulder, leading them away from the main room and towards what turned out to be a back stairwell. “You mean Nora hasn’t told you yet? Just how much ‘eye cleaning’ did you get up to?”

Piper’s glare was getting a fine workout that evening, compensating perhaps for the fact she couldn’t just go over and smack him one with her notepad.

Nora leant close a moment as they descended the stairs. “Just how much payback has Nick wracked up so far?” She asked in a stage whisper.

“Plenty.” Came Piper’s sinister reply, unconsciously feeling the weight of her notepad in her pocket and the words within.

Nick shuddered, though he was not really sure why, already at the base of the first set of stairs. He looked back up, small part of him concerned that he perhaps should have forgone bruised toes or ribs to help Nora with Piper, only to find both women smiling sweetly at him. Then he knew why he’d shuddered.

By the time they’d navigated the hallways and cold stares of the Goodneighbours’ complex it was near midnight. The air outside was icy cold, the moonlight night biting but beautiful, eerily quite after the earlier excitement.

Nick called them a cab. Had there not been the need to keep up the rouse with Nat, they could have stayed at his place for what remained of the night. Nick had always had far too much space for a one man outfit, but as he always put it, the place was cheap because not many folks could sleep through at matinee.

When the cab arrived he hugged them both, packed them into the vehicle and paid the driver before any complaints could be made. The watched him wave from the sidewalk, then turn towards the theatre district and home.

Thankfully for Piper’s sake the cabby was silent most of the journey, asking only if they wanted the heating on or not. They settled into the ride back, both gazing out the windows, drifting amongst the tides of their own thoughts and memories.

They’d told Piper, in small bites, what Hancock had relayed to them both. Now the young woman’s mind was caught up in the turbulent waters between ravenous curiosity and bone deep exhaustion.

Nick was going to visit the mortuary tomorrow. Under the guise of checking up on the suspected suicide case he’d been sniffing around that morning. He was going to see if he could bend the ear of the pathologists and get a bit more information on any other unknown cases linked to similar circumstances.

Meanwhile, Nora was going to take Piper to the hospital to get her eye checked over. Then, if she was given a promising bill of health, they’d head over to city hall and check out what records they could access there.

It felt like progress, still, Piper couldn’t help the heavy sigh that sank through her chest. Progress sure, but she’d be more hinderance than help if she couldn’t bear a walk through the docklands without fainting.

In the darkness of the back seat Nora folded her hand over Piper’s, smiling gently at her when her gaze rose to her cobalt eyes.

“Almost there now.” The older woman whispered, nodding out to the passing lights of Lexington.

Piper breathed out a “yeah”, then drifted back into silence.

Gina had left a note. She’d taken both Shaun and Codsworth back to her house. Nora seemed relieved somehow, perhaps the prospect of explaining herself to at least two more disappointed and angry friends was just too much for this end of the day.

Regardless of what Nick had paid the cabby, Nora gave him a tip and bid him a goodnight, locking the door once they were both inside. She stepped out of her heels, nudging them under the couch for now, and simply breathed for a few moments, her eyes slipping shut, her muscles uncoiling and relaxing one by one.

Piper watched quietly as she unlaced her boots. Only when she’d removed them and shakily stood from her perch upon the edge of the sofa, did she realise that she was actually a hair or two taller than the other woman. It made her mysteriously giddy, and she couldn’t help but giggle, much to her immediate horror.

Nora turned to her questioningly, tired but curious.

It was so ridiculous Piper didn’t dare explain, instead she merely shrugged and stepped around Nora’s attempts to corner her.

Piper changed in the bedroom, whilst Nora took her night things into Shaun’s empty room, finishing long before the younger woman and moving to the kitchen. She poured some milk into a pan, retrieved her tin of chocolate powder from the cupboard, and set about brewing them both a soothing nightcap.

The quiet padding of Piper’s bare feet heralded her approach, but Nora wasn’t quite expecting what happened next.

She sensed the woman linger nearby, just a few steps behind her as she stood at the stove, her warmth permeating the chilled night air between them. Nora stirred the contents of the pan, waiting, curious as to what she might do. Hesitantly, as one might handle an injured bird, Piper’s fingertips grazed the curve of her waist.

Nora remained still, then pan simmering beneath her gaze, the milk marbling prettily with veins of rich dark cocoa.

The fleeting caress of fingertips passed to become the warm press of palms, each hand resting just above her hips. She felt the younger woman draw in a long trembling breath.

“There’s…” Piper’s voice was barely loud enough to hear above the stillness. “…I need to know something Nora.”

Dragging the spoon through the heady torpor that swirled beneath her gaze, Nora swallowed silently. “Ask me.” She whispered back.

A tiny tremor shuddered through the hands at her waist, punctuated by a sombre breath near the base of her neck. “I need to know that you’re serious, about there being a potential… well… _us,_ after this thing heals up.” The press became a little firmer. “If you’re not, please, please don’t… if you’re… don’t play around with me, please.”

Careful so not to spill the contents nor move in to sharp a manner, Nora lifted the pan from the hob, and set it aside to cool a little before she decanted it. She twisted the dial, the cherry read of the heated metal dying to an ashy grey.

She placed her hands gently over Piper’s, keeping them in upon her body as she turned. When they stood face to face, Nora lifted her hands, and rested then upon Piper’s shoulders, the skin burning beneath her cold fingertips.

She could feel her pulse, thudding like a marching band beat. Did she really scare her so? Her rejection? Or was it the thought of being abandoned?

 _Again_.

The stray thought struck her with a terribly certainty.

“Piper,” She urged the terrified woman to look at her, to lift her gaze to meet hers. “I am serious about this as you want me to be. I want to pursue this attraction between us. But I want you to be well, I don’t want any feelings of obligation of vulnerability to cloud our actions. Please, believe me when I say that I don’t play around with people that way. What can I do to convince you?”

The steam from the pan coiled behind her. She felt it flow across her shoulder blades, the tiny droplets contained coalescing on her skin.

Thoughts journeyed past Piper’s eyes, steadily travelling from one word to another, her mind collecting and compiling her conclusions from what she’d just heard.

She licked her lips, drawing Nora’s attention to them for an instance before she caught herself.

“No.” Piper’s resolve collapsed before her eyes as the single word rolled from the younger woman on a sigh. “No, I don’t… I believe you.”

She stepped away, her hands lingering a moment before they left her body. “Anything I asked for… it would be horrible of me to…” She shook her head. “I believe you Blue.”


End file.
